Love is Never Forgotten
by L-chan the Great
Summary: After an accident, Lovino is unable to remember anything but his name and identity.  With conflicting emotions, and no idea who anyone is, will Lovino be able to rediscover his love for Antonio?  Sequal to "I'm Not Cute!"
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, here is the first chapter, and boy was it hard to write! This is the sequel to I'm Not Cute, so if you haven't read that (or at least the last couple chapters) this may be a little confusing for you.**

**Sorry if I totally pulled the rug out from under your feet in that last part, by the way. I was surprised, too, if that helps. Also, didn't I tell you all that story would grow a mind of it's own?**

**So, without further ado, I present to you the first chapter of Love is Never Forgotten, and apologize for any inconsistencies of character in advance!**

* * *

><p><strong>Lovino's POV<strong>

The doctors told me I have amnesia. I understand that much. After all, all I know is my name and my identity as South Italy. I mean, I can't really _not _know that. I can't explain it, but I can feel the state of my people, and North Italy's people, like a constant tug on my heart. Other than that, though, I don't know much.

My first night was a whirl of emotions. That man—another nation, I could tell, with that same tug that I knew I was South Italy—seemed so happy to see me, and so hurt when I asked who he was. It felt like a reasonable question at the time, but I guess he was someone important to me before… Well, before I woke up.

Besides confusion there was something else. It made me feel sick to have the nation holding my hand, like I was going to empty my stomach right then and there; and it felt like a fever spiked throughout my entire body. Yet, as much as I resented these feelings caused by the stranger, I half wanted him to stay.

That contradiction confused me more than anything.

I was a week after that night. The doctors wanted to run tests on me to make sure I was fine, other than my memory loss. I was reading a book that some shy man—nation, I mean—with black hair and a painfully formal personality brought me. His human name was… Kiki? No, I don't think that was it, but I'm sure it was something close to that. I do remember that he represented Japan though.

The nation from that first night, Spain, came in to visit. I sighed and put my book to the side. With him here, I knew I wouldn't be getting much reading done.

"Lovi, how are you?" he asked, looking like he was forcing himself to be cheerful.

"I'm fine, Antonio," I said, and watched him grimace when I said his name. I didn't understand what the hell was wrong with him. He should feel pretty damn honored that his was one of the few names I didn't forget immediately. Not that it was a special name. The bastard was just here all the time, so it's a little hard to forget.

"Feli and Ludwig aren't here yet?" Antonio asked.

I couldn't remember exactly who those two were, but I rolled my eyes anyway. "Idiot, what does it look like?" I retorted. After all, it was pretty obvious that we were the only two in here.

At the insult, Antonio brightened up a little, which just confused me to no end. Was he a masochist or something?

Antonio laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head. "I guess they aren't," he said.

The sight of his oblivious face tugged at my heart. I quickly wrote it off as endearment for the helplessly carefree idiot. That bastard, giving me all these confusing emotions whenever he showed up…

**Normal POV**

The atmosphere in the room was suffocating.

Antonio felt utterly depressed that Lovino couldn't remember him, of all people. Just before the accident, Lovino remarked that he couldn't get the carefree Spaniard out of his head. What cruel irony fate presented him with.

The situation wouldn't be so bad if his sweet Lovino didn't sound so distant, though. Lovino _never _used Antonio's full name, preferring to insult him, or call him Toni at most. So every time the Italian insulted him, it made him hopeful that Lovino would be his normal self soon.

"Ve~! Fratello~!" After a few minutes of awkward silence, the younger Italian brother finally made his appearance.

Feliciano immediately attached himself to Lovino. The older Italian stiffened a little under the contact. Antonio knew how Lovino hated to be touched, but held a soft spot for his brother at the same time. He could only imagine the confusing mix of emotions the embrace brought.

"Hello, Fe—Fel—Fratello," Lovino said finally, giving up on trying to say his brother's name. He looked as if he didn't know whether to return the hug or beat Feliciano to a pulp for touching him.

"Vee, Fratello~! Call me Feli. My name is Feli, remember?" he said playfully.

The tall German who'd come with Feliciano sighed. "Feliciano, please," Ludwig sighed. He was worried that if he didn't get Feliciano away from Lovino soon, a fight would break out.

Lovino flushed in embarrassment. "Damn it, isn't it enough that I call you Fratello without using a stupid name like that?" he insisted as Feliciano finally released him.

"Don't you just say that because you don't remember his name to begin with?" Ludwig muttered.

Lovino glared, and jumped out of bed. Antonio blushed lightly at the sight of his cute Lovino wearing a thin little hospital gown that barely covered his body.

"Damn it, bastard, of course I remember my own brother's name! I'm not an idiot!" he defended himself quickly. It was obvious that he hadn't remembered Feliciano's name.

Feliciano wrapped his arms around Lovino again. "Fratello~ don't be mean to Luddy, ok~?" he said, pouting up at his older brother.

"Let go of me! He started it!"

Antonio was reluctant to calm Lovino down. Although it wasn't good for him to start a fight in a hospital, he was acting so much like his old self that it tore Antonio's heart in two watching him. But the doctor would be in here any minute, so it probably wouldn't look good if Lovino was jumping around trying to murder one of his visitors. He'd probably get put into an insane asylum.

"Hey, Lovi, calm down, it's fine," Antonio said, placing his hand on Lovino's shoulder and gently pressing him back down onto the bed.

Lovino shivered at the touch, and Antonio drew his hand back quickly with a frightened apology. He didn't want to drive Lovino away before the Italian could remember him. It was difficult to just keep his hands off of his former lover since Antonio was so used to showering Lovino with affection.

The Italian dropped back onto the bed with a dramatic huff. "Fine, but only for now," Lovino said with a pout.

Antonio clenched his fists to prevent himself from tackling Lovino. He was just too cute for the Spaniard to resist! If this went on for much longer, Antonio wouldn't be able to restrain himself. Lovino needed to remember him, and soon!.

The doctor rescued him from his thoughts by finally deciding to enter the room. The four occupants looked expectantly at the doctor, although Lovino looked less interested than the rest. So far, all his memories were of the hospital, so he didn't feel the need to go anywhere else.

"Well, Lovino Vargas," the doctor began, reading from the clipboard. "You seem to be fine, except for your amnesia, so you may go home today. I suggest that you," he now referred to everyone else in the room, "surround him with familiar people and things. After that, you can really only hope for the best."

Feliciano looked upset. "Vee, I don't think I can take care of him very well," he said doubtfully, ignoring Lovino's protests of being able to take care of himself.

Antonio's heart beat fast as he jumped at the chance to be with Lovino. "Well, I can stay at your apartment with you two," he suggested, barely containing his own eagerness.

A smile lit up Feliciano's face. "Yay, big brother Spa—!" Before Feliciano could get out the entire statement, Ludwig clapped a hand over the Italian's mouth.

"Remember where you are," the German warned.

Feliciano glanced at the doctor and nodded. Ludwig removed his hand from Feliciano's mouth so he could continue speaking.

His enthusiasm had diminished somewhat from the interruption, but he appeared excited all the same. "Toni is coming to sleep over~! I'm so happy~!" He looked up at Ludwig, who felt a sudden foreboding. "Can you sleep over, too, Luddy~?" he asked innocently.

Ludwig blushed a little. "I don't think that's a good idea. You've been staying at my house for a while, so you should probably spend more time with your brother," he said.

Feliciano tilted his head like a confused puppy. "Vee? But Toni is going to spend the night, too…" The dejected look on his face melted Ludwig's heart.

"Ok, fine, I'll sleep over. Just for tonight." It was just impossible to say no to the younger Italian brother.

They arrived at the apartment without any trouble. Lovino was quiet for most of the ride, staring listlessly out the window. Feliciano sat in the front seat with Ludwig, babbling on about random things that came to his mind, while Ludwig only half-listened, periodically grunting to indicate he was paying attention. Antonio sat next to Lovino, just watching him.

"Ready to go home, Lovi?" Antonio asked when Ludwig stopped the car.

Lovino nodded. "Yeah, I guess," he said, a lot more quiet than when he'd been in the hospital.

Feliciano skipped right up to the door, happy as ever to be home. Ludwig walked after him, leaving Antonio and Lovino to follow. As they neared the door, Lovino drew back slightly. Right before they entered, he stopped completely.

Antonio glanced back to see the Italian staring inside with wide eyes. "What's wrong, Lovi?" he asked, following Lovino's gaze to try and find what was bothering him, but everything seemed to be in order.

Lovino was silent for a moment, then shook his head and looked down. "It's nothing," he said softly.

The older nation sighed lightly, still worried. "Ok, then. Let's go inside," he said, turning back around.

A small force tugged at his shirt, pulling him back. Lovino had grabbed onto the back of his shirt. Antonio gave him a questioning glance, but he was still looking down and didn't appear to be aware of his own actions. With another sigh—he'd been sighing way too much lately—Antonio stepped into the apartment with Lovino in tow.

"Welcome home, Lovi~!" Antonio announced when the door was shut, trying to brighten the troubled look on Lovino's face.

Lovino looked around curiously before his gaze returned to the ground. "Yeah, I guess," he said. 'Since when was Lovi so shy, even as a child?' Antonio wondered. As a tiny nation under his charge, the persona of South Italy had easily claimed Spain's abode as his own, and quickly made himself at home.

Feliciano skipped over to Lovino and grabbed his wrist gently. "Vee~ I'll show you around, Fratello~!" he said cheerfully, and pulled his brother away from Antonio to escort Lovino around the house.

Ludwig gave him a pitying look once they were alone. "Must be hard that he doesn't remember you," he said.

Antonio shrugged it off. "I guess. I wish he could remember me… But that's not his fault. If anyone, it would be my fault," he said, feeling dejected at the thought. He was the one to distract Lovino, so the Italian wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He'd forgotten Rosalinda at Lovino's house, too, which brought him to Spain in the first place.

"No, it's not your fault. If you think that, then when Romano regains his memories, he'll beat you up for it," Ludwig said.

Antonio gave a vague smile. "Yeah, he probably will," he agreed, unwilling to think about the many years it could take for Lovino to get back his memory, if he ever did. By then, would Lovino have fallen in love with someone else? It was frightening to think about.

"Vee, I'm going to make some pasta for dinner now~!" Feliciano announced, returning to the room with his hand still wrapped around Lovino's wrist.

Ludwig sighed. Not pasta _again._ While Lovino was in the hospital, Feliciano felt too lonely at home, so he'd stayed with Ludwig the entire time. And that meant Ludwig had eaten pasta way too often for his liking. He'd tried to say no to Feliciano, and get him to make something else, but there was _always _a new pasta he wanted to try, or one he hadn't eaten in a long time.

He put on his soldier face, ready for anything Feliciano threw at him. "Got it," he said tersely, with a nod.

Antonio smile grew somewhat. "Oh, I'll make a really delicious tomato sauce to go over it, then!" he said. Lovino loved tomatoes more than anything, and it was bound to spark a memory or two.

"Yay, cooking with big brother Spain is fun~!" With that, Feliciano released Lovino to attach himself to Antonio. A grimace, similar to pain, crossed Lovino's features, but was gone as fast as it appeared.

"I can't wait to cook with you, Feli~!" Antonio's words caused another grimace, and Lovino walked soundlessly from the room just as Feliciano pulled Antonio out of it.

Ludwig followed Lovino, having noticed the grim mood he dropped in. That could not be healthy for someone with amnesia. The German quickly found Lovino in his room, blankly staring at the closet door while running a hand over the blanket.

"What's wrong, Romano?" Ludwig asked, standing awkwardly by the door.

Lovino looked over at him, but the empty expression remained. He shook his head slowly. "Nothing. I don't know," he said.

"Which is it?" Ludwig asked.

It took a while for Lovino to answer this time. He looked around the room. "This is a nice room," he said finally. "I wish I remember why I made it like this, or if anything is very important to me. No one can tell me that, can they?"

"I guess not." This conversation was getting awkward for Ludwig, who wasn't one for such occasions.

"Everyone has a different name for me so far. I wonder why. Fratello calls me what he does because we're brothers, I know that. But Antonio… I want to know what he was to me before I woke up. He won't tell me…" Lovino said thoughtfully.

"Well, I can't tell you that. If he doesn't want you to know, he must have a good reason," Ludwig said.

Lovino gave him an eerily empty smile. "I guess you're right." Slowly, pain twisted his lips. "Everyone is having so much fun. You're all so close, especially Antonio and fratello."

Suddenly, Ludwig understood what the source of Lovino's pain was. "No, they're not as close as you think. Feliciano is like that with everybody," he assured Lovino, but it only seemed to make him more depressed.

A single tear rolled down Lovino's cheek. "I'm jealous," he said after another moment of silence, "that you can remember his name so easily."

* * *

><p><strong>It's a lot harder to write Lovino with amnesia than I thought. Centuries worth of memories I just erased there. Oh dear. I'll try not to make it too angsty, though!<strong>

**So, I ended that chapter a lot soon than I had originally planned to, but it would have been too long after that, so I'll split it into to.**

**Also, as a heads up, after next week I'll be busy with band and other things, so my quick updates will be a LOT slower.**

**So, until next time, ciao.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I thought this chapter wouldn't be so hard to write after I got the first chapter down... I was wrong. It was actually a lot harder. But I got it! *celebrate***

**I have band camp on friday. Marching around in triple digit weather... Are band kids insane or something? Hahaha.**

**Anyway, here's chapter 2! Please enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Dinner was awkward to say the least, particularly for Lovino. They all sat at a standard rectangle table, with Antonio directly across from him. The food smelled great. He probably would have dug into it heartily if it weren't for the expectant gaze Antonio gave him. Suddenly, Lovino was too nervous to take a bite.<p>

He looked over to Ludwig, who made a small grimace with every bite he took, then to Feliciano stuffing his face gleefully. Antonio ate slowly, rarely looking down at his own plate, preferring to watch Lovino instead. It was obvious he was watching for the Italian's reaction to the food.

The expectations made Lovino almost too nervous to even try the pasta, for fear of giving the wrong reaction. He poked his fork at it suspiciously, wondering if there was a way to skip dinner altogether. Or would that be odd as well? Damn it, trying to act "normal" made his head hurt.

"Vee, Fratello, why haven't you eaten anything yet?" Feliciano asked, noticing Lovino's full plate of pasta as he reached for another serving for himself.

Lovino briefly wondered if he could say he wasn't hungry. His traitorous stomach had other plans, and rumbled loudly. He flushed a little in embarrassment. "Oh, I'll take a bite now," he said, and cautiously brought a small piece of the wonderful-smelling food to his mouth.

Antonio leaned forward in the chair. The action worsened Lovino's already tightly wound nerves. Did he like pasta before? Did he love it? How did he use to react when eating pasta? The questions swirled around in his mind until he felt too dizzy to think any longer.

"How is the food, Lovi? Do you like it?" he asked, obviously ready to hang onto every word Lovino said.

Truthfully, Lovino thought the food was delicious. Especially the sauce, with the small chunks of tomato mixed in. It felt like heaven in his mouth, and he barely contained a squeal after tasting the pasta for the "first" time.

But was that the right answer?

He decided to take the safe middling road. "Um, it's ok," Lovino said, smiling and taking another bite. He just couldn't get enough of this pasta.

Antonio's face dropped in disappointment. Lovino felt a pang of panic. So that was a wrong answer after all!

"Oh, I see," Antonio said, with a large smile, which Lovino could tell was fake.

Lovino wondered if he could salvage the situation, but he still didn't know whether he should hate or love the pasta. Sighing, he resigned himself to go through his plate at a torturously slow pace, and declined a second serving that he was actually dying for. He pushed the plate away and stood up.

"I'm going to bed early," he announced.

"Vee, goodnight, fratello~!" Feliciano said with a little wave. Ludwig gave a small nod and a grunt that sounded like a "good night".

Lovino looked at Antonio, who hadn't yet said anything. The Spaniard seemed to be staring off into space since Lovino gave the "wrong" reaction toward dinner. Lovino cleared his throat to gain Antonio's attention.

"Goodnight, Antonio," Lovino said.

Antonio smiled faintly. "Goodnight, Lovi. Sweet dreams," he replied.

With another glance around the room, Lovino left to his room. Antonio watched until the Italian was gone, then buried his face in his arms with a sigh.

"I can't believe he didn't love the food. It was his favorite, too," Antonio said despairingly.

Feliciano patted Antonio's arm with an optimistic smile. "Don't worry, big brother Spain! I'm sure Lovino loved the food! He was just nervous!" he assured the Spaniard cheerfully.

Ludwig nodded in agreement. "He doesn't like to be put on the spot, you know," he reminded Antonio. He remembered the absolutely wretched look on Lovino's face before dinner, being the only one unable to smile and have fun with the others. The German could imagine how nerve-wracking getting put on the spot like that could be. He himself had trouble expressing emotion, after all.

Antonio quickly straightened, a guilty look spreading across his face. "That's right! Lovi hates it when I call attention to him like that! I probably scared him!" he exclaimed, as if horrified by the way he'd acted. "I need to go apologize!"

With that, he rushed out of the room, leaving Ludwig to wonder how Antonio could have such an obliviously one-track mind.

"Luddy~," Feliciano said in a slightly whiny voice, slipping into the German's lap so they were face-to-face.

Ludwig's heart skipped a beat; then froze when he noticed the tears in the small Italian's eyes. "What's wrong, Feliciano?" he asked, wiping away one of the glistening tears.

"Fratello can't even remember my name, or that he loves big brother Spain, or that he even likes tomatoes," Feliciano said sadly, resting his head against Ludwig's broad chest.

After hesitating for a moment, Ludwig stroked Feliciano's head comfortingly, half-expecting him to purr like the cats he loved so much. "It'll be fine. He's probably really confused right now." And scared, he added in his mind.

Feliciano nodded. "I know. Poor fratello," he said softly.

"He'll remember eventually, and then he'll be back to his old self again," Ludwig said, suppressing a shiver at the return of Lovino's violent personality.

"I hope so," Feliciano said, without cheering up as Ludwig hoped he would. He looked into Ludwig's eyes pleadingly. "Do you think he still loves big brother Spain?" he asked.

Ludwig thought about Lovino sitting on his bed, uncharacteristic tears in his eyes as he remembered how Antonio and his brother interacted. "Yes, I do believe he does. Even if he doesn't know it yet," Ludwig admitted truthfully.

Feliciano smiled, but the unshed tears still shone brightly in his eyes. "Vee, that's great~. Even if fratello never remembers big brother Spain, they can still be together. That makes me so happy," he said without much energy, scrubbing at his eyes.

Ludwig took Feliciano's hands and kissed away the tears for him. "Everything will be fine," he promised, kissing Feliciano softly on the lips.

The two sat like that for a while, Feliciano curled in Ludwig's lap, pressed against the German's comforting chest by two strong arms. The Italian loved to be held like this when he was upset. It gave him a sense of security, encircled in the warmth of someone he loves. Ludwig knew this, and loved to be the one to hold Feliciano, relishing the feeling of being needed.

Finally, Feliciano pushed away slightly. He sat up tall so their foreheads touched. "We should go to bed now, vee," he said, wrapping his arms around Ludwig's neck.

Ludwig nodded. "That's a good idea," he said, and stood up, carrying Feliciano bridal-style to Feliciano's room.

* * *

><p>After rushing out of the kitchen, Antonio made his way straight to Lovino's room. The door was wide open, so he took a look inside.<p>

The Italian was slightly curled on his side on top of the blanket, with the back facing the door. From his angle, he could see Lovino's fingers working at a loose thread on the bed sheet. The position he was in made Antonio want to run over and give him a comforting hug.

He knocked on the door softly. "Are you ok, Lovi?" Antonio asked.

Lovino sat up suddenly and turned, surprised by Antonio's sudden appearance. When they made eye contact, he quickly looked down again so Antonio couldn't see his face, but Antonio could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired is all," he said, wiping at his eyes in an attempt to banish the tears.

Antonio approached the bed. Sitting on the edge, he reached over and placed his fingers under Lovino's chin to tilt his head back up. The redness in his eyes shocked Antonio. It was only a couple minutes since Lovino left the dinner table. The Italian must have already been crying when he stood up.

"Why are you crying, Lovi?" he asked.

Lovino flinched away from the touch, hiding his face behind his hands. "I'm not crying, damn it!" he hissed.

Antonio frowned. "Was the food really that bad?" he asked dejectedly. It was the only thing he could think of since dinner that would upset Lovino.

The comment made Lovino sit up straighter and lean closer to Antonio. "It wasn't the food, dumbass! It was fucking delicious!" he said.

Antonio blinked. "It was? Are you sure?" he asked.

Lovino flicked Antonio in the forehead. "Of course it was! I loved it! Why would food make me fucking cry, you dumbass!" he said, then coughed in embarrassment. "Not that I was crying, because I wasn't!" A faint blush tinged his cheeks.

"So… You liked the food?" Antonio asked as his brain slowly processed Lovino's words.

"How many times do I have to say it, damn it? I loved it!" Lovino shouted.

Antonio couldn't contain himself any longer. "Oh, so cute, Lovi~!" he shouted, wrapping Lovino in a tight embrace.

Lovino froze for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened. When it finally clicked in his mind, he was quick to react. "What? Let go of me, damn it!" he said, kicking at Antonio.

Antonio realized what he was doing and released Lovino immediately. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" he shouted, obviously in a panic.

Lovino just looked like a deer caught in headlights, his heart beating wildly and his breathing erratic. "It's…" he began to say in forgiveness.

Antonio wouldn't let him. He bowed low in the way Kiku always said was a sure way to be forgiven. "I'm so sorry, Lovi, I won't do it again! Please forgive me!" he shouted.

The Italian tried to speak again. "No really, it's…" he began again, but was once again cut off.

"Please know I'm really sorry! I'll be going now, see you tomorrow!" Antonio said one final time, and then rushed out of the room.

Lovino stared at the open doorway. "What the hell? I was going to forgive him, but then he freaked out like that. Stupid bastard," he muttered to himself. Still, he thought, with a strange warmth blooming in his gut, the oblivious idiot was kind of endearing.

He dropped back onto the bed, finally alone, thinking about the strange feelings he felt when Antonio hugged him. There was surprise, of course, since he didn't expect to get assaulted like that. Then he felt a little confused (and still did), wondering why Antonio just hugged him because he liked the food, but he could easily pass that off with the explanation that the Spaniard was just an affectionate idiot.

Lovino turned back on his side to stare out the window. The lamps were turned off, so the only source of light was the setting sun, now dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows over the land. He felt like there was a shadow in his mind, preventing him from understanding the other emotions he felt besides surprise and confusion.

The hug had brought back the strange sickening-but-pleasant feeling in his stomach. He felt his cheeks heat up. Was it embarrassment? That would explain why he flushed whenever Antonio hugged him, although he couldn't figure out what would so embarrassing about it.

But embarrassment didn't explain the deep sorrow he felt when Antonio broke away.

"Damn it!" Lovino muttered, flipping onto his back and pounding the mattress in frustration. Why did Antonio make him feel this way? What was that idiot to him anyway?

"Why can't I just remember this one thing? Shit!" he whispered, pressing his fingers against his eyeballs, as if the action would squeeze a helpful image into his brain. It didn't help any, and only made his head ache. Real shocker there.

He resolved to continue staring at the ceiling as the natural light slowly faded away. The night was the worst. It took forever for him to get to sleep at night, and some nights he didn't even sleep. His mind was always busy, trying to grasp at some memory that would tell him who he was.

Sure, he knew his name, Lovino Romano Vargas. He knew he was the personification of South Italy. And obviously he also knew that Veneziano was his Northern half, and his brother. He just couldn't remember his brother's name all the time.

He knew all that about himself, but he didn't know who he was as a person. Lovino knew he wasn't just some nation, or half of a nation. There had to be something deeper, which made him feel the way he felt about the people he saw.

That's what he wanted to know about himself. He wanted to know why he wanted to push his brother away at the same time as he wanted to hug him tightly. He wanted to know why he felt some deep-seated anger toward Germany, when the personification himself never did anything to harm him (at least, in Lovino's limited memory he didn't).

Most of all, he wanted to know why he felt all these confusing, conflicting emotions when Antonio so much as glanced at him.

Tonight was no different from all the others. Except for the sudden, irrational fear that stuck him. The room should feel familiar. It was his room after all, even if he couldn't remember it. Even with that in mind, he didn't like lying there alone, in the dark. He hated being alone at night, that much he was sure of.

The minutes ticked by as Lovino tried to push the fear away. It was no good. When he finally managed to focus on something else, it rose again with vengeance. He wished he had more memories that he could think of, instead of the fear building up inside of him.

Finally, he gave in to it. He remembered how warm Antonio's arms had been, even with the strange pleasantly-sick feeling. Lovino got out of bed and grabbed one of his pillows, a tomato-shaped one which he wasn't sure was a gift, or he just had because he liked tomatoes, or both.

"That idiot should be on the couch," Lovino muttered to himself as he left his room. His brother had shown him the apartment earlier that day, and there were only two bedrooms—his and his brother's. Since it was obvious that his brother would share his bed with Germany (he suppressed an involuntary shiver), there was one place the Spaniard could be.

He was correct. Antonio was lying on the couch, wide awake. The Spaniard sat up when he saw Lovino come in.

"What is it, Lovi?" he asked, with a nervous edge to his voice.

Was Antonio still upset about hugging him earlier? Lovino sighed.

"I'm kind of cold. My blankets are too thin," he announced, glad the dark room hid the embarrassing blush spreading across his face.

Antonio scratched his head, confused. "But, Lovi, you have very thick blankets. They're very heavy, too. Plus it's very warm right now," Antonio said, obviously not understanding what Lovino was getting at.

"Idiot, I want to sleep with you tonight, so you can warm me up!" Lovino whispered harshly, suddenly aware that his brother and Germany were in the other room.

"Oh, ok then, Lovi~!" the idiot said with a smile, although still apparently slightly confused why Lovino wanted to sleep with him.

Luckily, the couch was large enough for the two of them, because for some reason Antonio insisted on remaining in the living room, just in case Lovino wanted to sleep alone later that night. Lovino had rolled his eyes and called the Spaniard an idiot, saying that he was definitely not go back to his room. Antonio was persistent, though, so they remained on the couch.

It wasn't so bad, though. Pressed up against the Spaniard, with strong arms holding him tight, Lovino felt the blossoming warmth spread throughout his body. Sighing contentedly, Lovino quickly fell asleep for the first time since he woke up without a memory.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, I just realized in the last chapter I didn't have any of the line breaksborders I wanted to to indicate a shift in the scene. Oh well, I guess.**

**Anyway, thank you for all the kind reviews, and I'll see you next chapter! Ciao!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I was listening to the Hetalia Drama CD: Boss CD yesterday (Spain's CD, yay!), and one of the tracks taught you how to make churros (Romano and Spain, so cute and funny!). So obviously I had to try it out for myself! And they were de-li-ci-ous!**

**Start band camp the day after tomorrow. Dear, oh dear. But at least I'll have amazing churros to share, and I'll be thinking about Spain and Romano the entire time I'm eating them!**

**I got a translating app on my phone. I'm obsessed with it, translating everything into German and Italian, hehehe.**

* * *

><p>"Vee, big brother Spain, where's fratello?" Feliciano yawned as he wandered into the kitchen the next morning.<p>

Antonio turned from the stove, where he was making omelets for breakfast, to give the Italian a bright smile. "He's just outside taking a walk. Lovi wanted to be alone for a while before breakfast," he replied.

Feliciano sat next to Ludwig, who was reading a newspaper as he waited for breakfast. Unlike the others, who were still in pajamas, the German was fully dressed and ready for his day. Feliciano looked at the newspaper for a while, but it was all in German, so he settled to watch Ludwig's eyes as they flitted over the pages, absorbing whatever information the printed ink had to give him.

Ludwig sat there for a while, completely immersed in his reading. Gradually, he seemed to become aware of Feliciano's gaze on him, and began to fidget. Sighing, he gave up the endeavors to ignore his lover, and snapped his eyes to Feliciano's face.

"What is it?" he asked in a clipped voice.

Feliciano wasn't offended. Even though Ludwig was always up early in the morning, the taller nation's temper was shorter than later in the day.

"Nothing~. It just makes me so happy to be able to watch you~!" he replied, with a huge goofy grin stretching over his tired features.

A faint blush appeared on Ludwig's pale cheeks. "O—oh. Is that so?" he asked awkwardly, eyes darting between Feliciano and back to the newspaper.

Feliciano nodded vigorously. "Mm-hm!" he hummed happily. "Ich liebe dich~!" His pronunciation of the unfamiliar German words was terrible, but he said it with such enthusiasm, the lack of fluency was easily overlooked.

Ludwig looked torn between feeling touched or embarrassed by Feliciano's declaration of affection. He decided to be touched.

"Ich liebe dich," he replied.

Feliciano very rarely expressed his love in German. Any language other than Italian was too difficult for his clumsy tongue. That's why whenever he did say something in Ludwig's native language; it went straight to the German's heart. It was the way that Feliciano, before they got together, convinced Ludwig that Feliciano loved him in a deeper way than the puppy-dog affection he showered every passerby with.

The front door opened. "Hello?" Lovino called tentatively.

"In the kitchen, Lovi~!" Antonio called.

"Vee, you seem to be in a good mood," Feliciano pointed out, moving his focus away from Ludwig for the time being.

Antonio nodded with a grin. He had finished the omelet he'd been cooking and was on the next one. Ludwig stood and went over to grab the two plates already on the counter. One he set in front of Feliciano, who thanked him with an enthusiastic "Gratzi~~" and the other he put down for himself.

"Lovi got lonely, so he came to sleep on the couch with me last night," Antonio explained briefly, putting a hand over his chest like he was trying to prevent it from bursting free from his body.

Lovino entered the room and blushed. "I—idiot! Don't say something embarrassing like that! I said I was cold! Cold, not lonely!" he insisted.

"Welcome back, Lovi~!" Antonio said, ignoring the Italian's protests.

"Good morning, fratello~!" Feliciano said after swallowing a mouthful of egg and cheese. Ludwig grunted by way of a greeting.

Lovino shuffled over to the counter. From a small paper bag he was holding, he produced a bright red tomato. He held it out to Antonio. "Here."

Antonio stared at the fruit in disbelief. It couldn't be a coincidence, right? "What's this for?" he asked, trying to stop his racing heart before it throbbed with too much excitement.

"I—I just had this feeling! That you would, you know, like a tomato, or something. I don't know! I just felt like you loved tomatoes! Something like that," Lovino tried to explain himself, rapidly switching between muttering and shouting. He refused to meet Antonio's eyes.

Antonio smiled broadly. "I love tomatoes!" he admitted, snatching the gift from Lovino's hands. "Muchos gracias, Lovi!"

Lovino blushed. "Idiot, it's just a tomato. I was just going for a walk around the block, and there was a farmer's market, and I saw these tomatoes, and for some reason I thought you'd really like it…" His voice trailed off. And I thought it'd make me happy if I got you something, he added in his mind.

He couldn't say that out loud, though! It was completely embarrassing, and he didn't even know why he felt that way!

"It makes me really happy, Lovi. It really does!" Antonio insisted.

Lovino glanced up and made brief eye contact with the Spaniard before looking away again. "Idiot."

"Do you want a tomato in your omelet, Lovi?" Antonio asked, like he hadn't heard Lovino's muttered insult.

Lovino pulled out a second tomato from the bag and handed it to Antonio with a nod. Then he went over to the table and sat down across from Feliciano.

His younger brother wore a wide smile on his face. "Vee, why'd you give a gift to big brother Spain~?" Feliciano asked, with a ridiculous wiggle of his eyebrows.

Lovino flushed and glared. "It's just a damn tomato! I don't know what's so special about it!" he said.

Ludwig sighed and held the newspaper closer to his face, like he was trying to ignore the two Italians. For some reason, the action angered Lovino.

Before Lovino could say a few choice words to express this anger, however, Antonio dropped a plate in front of Lovino. It was a simple cheese omelet mixed with diced tomatoes (he had no idea how the Spaniard managed to cut up the tomato and add them to the dish in the span of a minute).

"Enjoy, Lovi~!" Antonio said in his usual cheerful manner.

Lovino nodded. "Thanks," he said, and focused on his food.

So far, the day was going great for Antonio. In the hospital, it had seemed like Lovino would never be the same person again, except for the occasional inclination to cuss. Now, it felt like Lovino was his old self again. Antonio had to keep reminding himself that he still couldn't hug and kiss Lovino like he wanted to.

But with the gifts of tomatoes and cuddling at night, the future certainly felt optimistic.

* * *

><p>"Maybe it's better if Lovino stays here…" Ludwig said uncertainly.<p>

"Vee, but what if fratello gets lonely?"

"I'll stay with him!" Antonio offered with a smile.

Ludwig shook his head. "You missed the last one, so you definitely need to come," he said.

The three were discussing what to do with Lovino in regards for the World Conference meeting that was being held that day. Since it was only a couple days after Lovino got out of the hospital, Ludwig didn't think it would be wise for the Italian to attend.

"Vee, I guess I can stay with fratello…" Feliciano began.

"Nein!" Ludwig said immediately.

Feliciano looked hurt by the quick refusal. Antonio quickly stepped in to remedy the situation.

""But Feli," he said reasonably, "we need as many nations to be represented as possible, and since both you and Lovi are Italy, it'll be fine if only you go."

The half-nation thought about this for a minute. Then he gave a small smile and nodded. "Ok, I got it."

Ludwig and Antonio breathed a small sigh of relief, having averted a potential crisis.

"That still doesn't solve the issue of Lovino, though," Ludwig pointed out.

Lovino coughed loudly to get everyone's attention. He'd been standing there for the past ten minutes, listening to them debate his fate while ignoring the nation in question. He was sick of it.

"Don't I get a say in the matter?" he asked, his tone dripping acid.

Antonio was by his side in an instant. "Of course you do, Lovi! It's just that you can't remember anything, and it might be hard for you to keep up, so it'll probably be better if you stay behind!" he explained quickly, moving his hand in exaggerated motions that had little to do with what he was saying.

Lovino set his mouth in a determined line and crossed his arms stubbornly. "I'm going," he said.

"B—but Lovi! You won't know anybody, and you'll get pushed around in the meetings!" Antonio looked to Ludwig for backup, but the German raised his hands in a "you're on your own" gesture.

"Then I'll get reacquainted with everybody. The doctor said I should be surrounded by familiar things. I'm going," Lovino said stubbornly.

Antonio sighed in defeat. "Fine, then," he said, hanging his head slightly.

Ludwig looked at his watch and coughed impatiently. "We need to get going, or we'll be late," he announced with the look that told them being late was not an option. It sent a chill through the room.

Feliciano hooked his arms through one of Ludwig's. "Vee, time to go~! Let's go~!" he said in a sing-song voice and half-dragged Ludwig from the room.

Antonio laughed a little at the sight. He looked at Lovino, who looked pleased with himself. "Ready to go then?" he asked the Italian, offering his hand.

Lovino looked at the proffered hand and kept his arms crossed. "Of course I'm ready, damn it. It's no big deal!" he said, although his voice, with the slightest tremble, betrayed his anxiety. He stomped ahead of Antonio, insisting on going to the car by himself.

The sight of Lovino trying so hard to be independent of everyone made Antonio smile from the nostalgia. The conference today was going to be interesting.

Well, more interesting than usual in any case.

* * *

><p><strong>Short chapter is really short. Sorry. I didn't want to get into the meeting yet, though, so I cut it short instead.<strong>

**Don't you just love Antonio's super-fast cooking powers?**

**Until next time, then, ciao!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Um, so this was SUPPOSED to not be written for at LEAST two days. But I guess I'm on a writer's binge, or something like that, so I just HAD to write it. Um, yeah...**

**I'm a total fangirl, now. I'm eating churros that I made as I type this up, while listening to one of the six marukaite chikyuu versions I put on my ipod, along with a bunch of hetalia character songs (obsessed? who me?). Ahaha, my friends will laugh when I tell them tomorrow about it. Then they'll stop laughing once I give them churros and proceed to encourage my fangirlism.**

**So here we go! Chapter four of Love is Never Forgotten!**

* * *

><p>Lovino's stubborn resolution wavered when he stepped into the room where the meeting was to be held.<p>

There were so many nations, and they were all so _loud_. Some were chattering about mundane things, and others were debating world issues, while others were just arguing for the sake of arguing. It was all too much for Lovino, who up until then never had to deal with large crowds.

He moved behind Antonio, grabbing the back of the Spaniard's shirt nervously. Antonio looked back to give him a reassuring smile, then continued to lead Lovino into the heart of the commotion.

A few people gave him curious glances. All of the nations (or at least the ones that paid any attention at all) knew Lovino lost his memory, and many of them were wondering if he gained a more likable personality because of it.

He scowled when he felt their eyes on him, but kept his own focused directly in front of him (specifically Antonio's back). His grip on Antonio's shirt tightened.

"How many times are you going to come up with those idiotic schemes, America? They are so flawed that—!" Arthur was in the middle of a rant when Antonio and Lovino emerged from the crowd to the opposite side of the room.

"Oh, hey, it's South Italy! Hey, Romano!" Alfred pointedly cut Arthur off to say hi to the half-nation.

"Um, hey?" Lovino replied, looking up at Antonio with a silent question.

Antonio laughed a little. "This is Alfred. He represents America. And that," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the indignant nation, "is Arthur of England."

Arthur sniffed in a haughty manner. "That would be The Great British Empire to you," he said.

Alfred laughed and clapped Arthur on the back. "What empire? You're just a bunch of droopy, depressing islands above Europe!" he teased.

"Watch your mouth, you brat! I'm the one who raised you!"

The American only laughed at Arthur's attempts to act superior. "You're so tiny, too! If anyone is an empire, wouldn't that be me?" he asked.

His words rang true. Besides Mexico, Alfred represented a nation that ruled North America. Or was there someone else? Lovino was sure there were three nations in North America, but he couldn't quite remember who. He shrugged it off as memory loss.

"Did someone say empire?" Russia appeared among the group so suddenly that Alfred screamed like a little girl.

"I—Ivan, don't scare us like that!" Alfred said, putting a hand over his heart.

Arthur laughed nervously, trying to cover his own fright. "Ahaha, you were scared, Alfred? How wimpy!" he said, although he'd nearly screamed just as loud and girly-like as Alfred had.

Ivan looked around the group with a creepy smile on his face. "We're creating an empire now? Then all of you can become one with me, da?" he said.

"No, no, we're not creating an empire," Antonio said. Even the oblivious Spaniard looked on-edge with Russia around. "We're just re-introducing Lovino to everyone before the meeting starts."

Ivan looked around Antonio to see the cowering half-nation clutching the back of Antonio's shirt for dear life. He smiled so innocently it sent chills down Lovino's spine.

"That's not how you become one with a nation," he told Lovino in a matter-of-fact way.

"I—I know," Lovino said in a squeaky voice. This Russian nation scared him to no end.

"You don't remember anything, da?" Ivan asked.

Lovino was almost afraid to ask what the creepy nation was getting at. He shook his head in response.

Ivan nodded, looking pleased. "Then you can become one with me, and I will teach you everything you need to know!" he said with a delighted tone that chilled Lovino to the bone.

Lovino had no idea how to respond to that. On one hand, her definitely did _not _want to become one with this scary nation, or any nation at all for that matter. On the other hand, he was too frightened to decline, imagining all kinds of horrors Russia would bring upon him for his refusal.

Antonio sensed Lovino was increasingly uncomfortable, and jumped in to rescue him. "Well, we should go find Ludwig and Feli before the meeting starts, so we'll talk to you all later!" he said, taking Lovino's hand and dragging him out of the situation.

"A—Antonio, wait!" Alfred gasped. "I'll help you! That's what heroes do, right?"

Antonio gave an obliviously puzzled smile. "Is it now?" he asked.

Alfred nodded in earnest. "It is! So entertain Ivan, Arthur, while I go do hero work, bye!"

The three of them quickly left Arthur to deal with the creepy Ivan. Arthur gaped at them as they abandoned him.

Alfred noted the look of betrayal on Arthur's face with grim amusement. "Well, I'm going to get a big lecture tonight for that," he said, his mouth twisted in a way that looked like he was trying to frown while grinning.

"Why don't you just stay with him then?" Lovino asked, mostly to distract himself from the emotions he felt Antonio holding his hand.

Alfred laughed loudly. "It's worth it to get out of a conversation with Ivan! The guy freaks me out. Which is ok, though, because even heroes have weaknesses sometimes!" he added quickly.

Antonio smiled, nodding in agreement. "Of course they do," he said without a hint of sarcasm or mockery in his voice.

Lovino groaned. "You're all idiots," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

><p>The meeting had ended five minutes ago and Antonio still hadn't shown up, leaving Lovino alone in the hall.<p>

He huffed angrily. His brother and Ludwig had gone off to the car already, assigning Lovino to stand outside of the conference room to wait for Antonio. So Lovino was left watching random nations walk through the hall, going about whatever business they had to do.

It was painfully boring.

"Ah, it's little Romano, all alone!"

Lovino sighed. "Not for long, go away," he said harshly.

France gave a dramatic sigh. "So harsh, and you didn't even let me introduce himself!" He moved closer to Lovino.

"Damn it, I'm waiting for Antonio! Go away!" Lovino said, uncomfortable with France's proximity. The bastard nearly freaked him out as much as Russia did.

France launched himself at Lovino, leaning heavily on the smaller nation. "Bastard, get off of me!" Lovino demanded, pushing at France's body with limited success in increasing the distance between them. They were still touching, but not pressed up against each other.

"You remember me, don't you?" France's hungry hands wandered over Lovino's chest as he spoke.

Lovino felt a shiver run down his spine. He pushed the nation's hands away. "No I don't. Were we really this close?" he asked, meaning his question to be taken sarcastically.

Francis didn't take the obvious rejection. "Oui. Very close. In fact, we had a relationship that could only be described as l'amour!" he insisted, moving closer so Lovino was nearly pressed up against the wall.

Merda, where the hell was Antonio when you needed him? "Bullshit. I don't remember that," Lovino counted, itching to kick France's most vital regions. The limited distance didn't give him much opportunity to do that however.

"But you don't remember much at all, oui?" Francis counted. He moved one hand to Lovino's hair, stroking the fine locks lovingly.

If Antonio didn't make a timely appearance soon, Lovino was going to kill that bastard. "I think I'd remember you," he hissed. He seriously doubted he'd forget someone who gave him horrible chills as bad as Francis was that moment.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Before Lovino had a chance to glare and correct him, Francis took hold of his curl and gave if a gentle tug. A jolt of pleasure shot through his body.

"D—damn it," Lovino hissed through his teeth.

"If we weren't close, how would I know about how this curl makes you feel?" Francis asked, pressing up against Lovino, continuing his ministrations to the curl.

"Ah, ngh, s—stop it, ba—ah, b—bastard!" Lovino managed to say, fighting back the pleasure. He hated that the perverted French bastard could make him feel this way so easily.

Francis smirked. Honestly, he'd found out about the curl completely on accident. When Lovino was just a little half-nation living in Spain, he'd watched Antonio play mindlessly with the little curl. While the Spaniard was completely oblivious of the effect his actions had on Lovino, Francis noticed and tucked the information into a little corner of his mind for future use.

"M—merda! Antonio, bastard, save me!" Lovino cried in low, barely audible gasps.

"You know, my axe is getting kind of dull. Do you want to volunteer to help me sharpen it, Francis?"

Francis jumped with a yelp and immediately jumped away from Lovino, who was trying desperately to catch his breath. "A—Antonio!" he gasped, seeing his best friend directly behind him.

Antonio held his huge, disconcerting smile that promised torture and a slow death. "Well? I would like someone to try it on, since it's been so long," he prompted, a subtle threat lying under his innocent tone.

"No, I'm busy! Very busy!" Francis said quickly, putting his hands up as a flimsy barrier between him and his silently bloodthirsty friend.

Antonio's head tilted slightly to the side. "Is that so? Well, then would you mind staying away from Lovi? If you're so busy." He allowed his expression to transform from the false grin to a dark glare.

"Oh, Lovino and I were just playing! Weren't we Lovino?" Francis insisted with a nervous grin.

Lovino glared, his face still flushed from having his curl played with. "Bastard! You were molesting me when Antonio's back was turned!" he said.

"Please stop trying to steal Lovi away or I'll kill you," Antonio said in an innocent voice.

"Your tone doesn't match your words!" Francis pointed out, taking another step back.

Something clicked in Lovino's mind. "Wait. You!" He pointed an accusing finger at Francis.

"Hmm? What about me, mon cher?" Francis asked.

Lovino suppressed a shiver at the endearment. "You're that fucking bastard who was always trying to kidnap me from Spain, aren't you?"

Francis frowned. "That language is so uncute, Lovi," he whined.

"Fuck you! Don't call me Lovi, damn it!" Lovino yelled.

Francis smiled delightedly. "Oh, so you do remember me!"

"Maybe later," Francis said, and then jumped back as Antonio took a threatening step forward. "I'm just kidding! I'm really busy! Things to do before the meeting starts, you know!"

Antonio turned to Lovino with a more genuine smile. "Are you ok, Lovi? Francis plays around so much, and sometimes he goes a little too far," he explained apologetically.

Lovino gaped at him. "Playing? He was sexually harassing me! You guys have a strange sense of humor!"

"I'm sorry, Lovi. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise!" Antonio said.

Lovino's heart ached at Antonio's words. "You already broke your promise," he said in a quiet voice.

Antonio gave Lovino a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" he asked.

The Italian looked up at Antonio, the faintest hint of tears in his eyes. "You promised me you'd never leave me! And then you went off somewhere and I almost got raped!" he said.

Antonio was taken aback by Lovino's wild accusation. "R—raped, Lovi? Francis wouldn't do that," he insisted in an uneven tone, too upset by Lovino's anger to be thrilled about the fragmented memories started to surface.

"What if he had? What if he dragged me off somewhere, instead of standing in this hall where anyone could find us, so you couldn't stop him like you always did?" Lovino cried.

The Spaniard had no idea how to respond. He felt confused. There was no helping getting separated from Lovino momentarily when he was held back by Arthur. He never imagined the promise he'd made so sincerely meant staying by Lovino's side every moment of the day. Then again, it _was _true that not being there put Lovino in danger. He didn't know how to respond.

"L—Lovi…" he began, holding out a hand to touch Lovino's shoulder, in some silent cry for forgiveness of a crime he couldn't understand.

Lovino flinched as his hand came closer, and Antonio froze.

"J—just… Let's go home," Lovino said quietly.

Antonio dropped his hand back to his side and nodded. Lovino kept his eyes trained on the ground so he wouldn't have to see the dejected look on the Spaniard's face, which would twist his heart in guilt.

Merda, Lovino thought bitterly, why the hell does this idiot make me feel this way?

* * *

><p><strong>Wait, where'd all that come from? I totally didn't mean for France to be so rapist-like. It was SUPPOSED to be a teasing, light-hearted end, but then the characters apparently decided to hijack the chapter.<strong>

**Oh well, I guess. See you all next chapter!**

**Ciao!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ok, before you start reading this chapter, I have a quick question for all of you...**

**What do you think about a story of Spain, when he starts out as a nation, and tracing his life back to the present? I wanted to write something about his beginnings, because I think Spain's history is really interesting. The history of the country of passion is very... Passionate. No joke. I've got ideas for it, but I want to know if anyone would read it.**

**Anyway, now that I feel super sore from my first day of band camp (I really need to work out more) and squirrel stalking (for biology), I'm ready to post the next chapter! Please enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Lovino's POV<span>**

It shouldn't be so hard for me to get to sleep. I mean, I wasn't even alone tonight. My air-headed little brother was sleeping right next to me in my bed, while Antonio would get to sleep in Feli… Oh, what the hell was the _name_? I screwed my eyes tightly shut, trying to remember. It was something long and complicated and completely _impossible _to remember. I knew that much.

"Fe… Feli… Um…" I let out a soft groan, so as not to wake up the sleeping idiot, lying there curled so innocently and peacefully. Although he totally deserved it if I did accidentally wake him up. I hadn't wanted to sleep with him, but he insisted, because he would be so lonely with the German bastard going home that night.

"Feli… _Feliciano_," I hissed finally. A victorious feeling rose in me as my little brother, still asleep, shifted in response to his name, and the hand holding my own (for some reason, it was absolutely _vital_ for him to hold my hand as he fell asleep) tightened ever so slightly.

I felt proud that I'd finally managed to say his name, without any help. "Feliciano, Feliciano, Feliciano," I whispered, relishing the way the syllables rolled so effortlessly from my lips.

Someone should give me a fucking _award _for that.

"Vee, Fratello~," Feliciano mumbled in response to his whispered name, and shifted even closer to me, so that our foreheads were nearly touching. All in his sleep.

I regretted trying to say his name at all. He was much too close for comfort now. I suppressed the urge to violently push him away, since he would probably fall off the bed. Not that he didn't deserve it, making me feel so damn uncomfortable and all. I just didn't want to deal with his earsplitting wails (which I'd learned of the first time he visited me in the hospital and found I couldn't remember a damn thing), and then Antonio would come in and the night would be a fucking disaster.

Speaking of Antonio…

A wave of guilt overwhelmed me, and I blinked several tears to get rid of the stupid stinging tears burning my stupid watering eyeballs. Crying was stupid. I didn't do anything wrong. It was that Spanish bastard's fault, for going and leaving me alone to get molested by that fucking French pervert. _He _broke his promise, not _me._ Antonio was the one to blame here.

I sighed heavily, fighting back the sickening guilt worming its way through my gut. Maybe I shouldn't have snapped at him after all. I mean, I didn't even know the _context _of the promise he made to me. It was just a disconnected memory, floating freely through my mind, like all the others that resurfaced. These memories were like puzzle pieces, forming some picture when put together, but not connected at all.

Unconsciously, my hand tightened around Feliciano in my frustration, who whimpered in pain. "Vee, Fratello?" he asked tearfully, opening his eyes slightly.

Immediately I released the victimized hand. "Sorry, Feliciano, I was just thinking…" I said, still loving the way the name sounded when I said it.

Feliciano blinked, a little more alert, but still half-asleep. "Vee, did you just say my name?" he asked in his tired voice.

I nodded. "Yes."

If he'd been fully awake, Feliciano would probably jump out of bed and rush to tell Antonio the good news, not caring what ungodly hour it was. Then both of the idiots would be all over me, way too excited over something as insignificant as a name (I mean, I felt proud about it, but that was different, since I was the one without any memories).

As it was, however, my idiotic little brother had no energy to do that. Instead, he gave a soft smile and closed his eyes once again. "Vee, I'm so glad," he said ever so softly. Within seconds, he was sound asleep.

Stupid, peaceful, endearing little idiot...

Why couldn't Antonio be so happy that I could say his name without any hesitation? That idiot was happier when I insulted him than when I said his name. It just didn't make any sense, especially with my imperfect memories of him.

By imperfect memories, I meant only a few, out of the several centuries' worth that I undoubtedly had of that idiot. There were several occasions of that French pervert trying to steal me away from Antonio's house, when I was just a tiny half-nation. Every time I so much as gone a foot away from the front door, France was there to snatch me up. I remembered Antonio was always there to rescue me, sometimes beating his "best friend" within an inch of his life for trying to lay a finger on me.

Those memories brought warmth and familiarity throughout my body, lulling me into a sense of security that Antonio was only a few doors away.

Then there was the remembered promise. It was fuzzy, sitting just on the edge of my mind, so that whenever I tried to reach for it, it danced tauntingly just beyond the tips of my fingers. I scowled as I tried desperately to remember.

I was… Older than when I'd lived in Spain with Antonio… I think I was upset about something. I didn't know _what _I was upset about, but it must have been pretty damn bad, since I remember fucking _sobbing _in Antonio's arms and _begging _for him to never leave me.

Why did he make that promise? Why was it that my older self was crying in Antonio's arms, seeking comfort and security? What was that idiot to me?

The memories of my "childhood" (being a nation really required vague definitions of these words, since our growth is so _different_) could easily be explained away by the Spaniard being a father figure to me. That would make sense, since I was young and living in Antonio's house while he took care of me and protected me. But the memory of the promise was somehow different. I'm sure that it happened after I'd become independent of Spain. The tone of the promise just seemed _different _than the kind of promise a father would make a son.

Ugh, thinking about it made my head feel like it was going to split open with all that painful throbbing it was doing. And it was all that damn bastard's fault for making me feel this way. Since he _insisted _on not telling me a fucking thing, I was left to try and figure it out on my own, hence the annoyingly painful _headache _I had.

Exhausted by my futile efforts to remember more of my past, I settled against Feliciano's sleeping form and slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>Normal POV:<strong>

"Lovi's right. I should have been there for him. It's all my fault that he got so upset, and now he won't even talk to me!" Antonio said, his voice slightly slurred. He emptied the rest of a bottle of wine into his glass.

Ludwig sighed. He'd meant to leave as soon as the Italian brothers had gone to bed, but Antonio was such a mess that he couldn't just leave the Spaniard alone. "I'm sure he doesn't really blame you," he said patiently, drumming his fingers on the table.

Antonio hiccupped and drained his glass. "But he was so _mad_! He wouldn't let me anywhere _near _him! He hates me, he definitely does!" he cried, and tipped the already-empty bottle over his glass. When none of the mind-numbing liquid appeared in his cup, he pouted at the offending object.

"Isn't that just Lovino being Lovino?" Ludwig asked, beginning to tire of the conversation. Seeing Antonio getting drunk off of wine gave him a craving for beer.

There was a bang as Antonio pounded his fists against the table. "No, it was _different_!" he insisted, his eyes way too wide and serious. He hiccupped again.

Ludwig held his hands up disarmingly. "Maybe he was just scared after his encounter with France. Anyone would be, after being molested by someone they only have bad memories and fear of," he reasoned, shivering at the thought.

With a sigh, Antonio slumped over the table, burying his face in his arms. "Poor Lovi. I should have been there for him. Pobrecito Lovi," he whined softly.

Ludwig stood. "Well, in the morning, just apologize to him. He'll forgive you," he assured the depressed Spaniard. The heavy air that surrounded the normally cheerful Antonio was just upsetting, and made Ludwig uncomfortable on so many levels.

Antonio peeked up at him, looking like a child too stubborn to admit that his parents loved him, even though they took away his toys. "You really think so?" he asked, the faintest bit of hope in his voice.

The German nodded. "He definitely will," he assured Antonio, his patience wearing thin by now.

After a moment of silence, Antonio nodded in agreement. "I guess you're right." He looked at Ludwig questioningly. "You're leaving now?" he asked.

Ludwig sighed at relief that he finally had an opportunity to go home. "Yes, if I want to be home before morning I should leave now," he said, moving toward the door.

Antonio nodded again, giving a half-hearted wave. "Buenas noches, then," he said.

After Ludwig had gone, Antonio buried his face in his arms once again, and remained that way until long after he was alone. He sure hoped Lovino forgave him.

* * *

><p>"You idiot! What the hell do you think you're doing?"<p>

Lovino's shriek woke Antonio from an uneasy dream. The Spaniard raised his head to grin weakly at the fuming nation. "Ah, good morning, Lovi," he greeted pleasantly, his throat dry and hoarse.

Lovino placed his hands on his hips, not amused. "Don't 'good morning, Lovi' me! Did you stay in here all night?" His sharp eyes found the empty wine bottle. "Did you drink that whole bottle by yourself?"

Antonio followed Lovino's eyes to the bottle. "Ah, I guess I did," he said. He couldn't remember drinking it, but he was still at the kitchen table, and he had a pounding headache, so chances were he did drink all that wine.

"Why are you so reckless? Geez." Lovino clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

The Spaniard thought about Lovino's question for a while, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I guess I was a little sad because I left you alone and you got hurt. Sorry if I worried you," he apologized with a nervous smile.

As if he'd hit a switch, the look on Lovino's face instantly changed from disapproving and slightly disgusted, to worried and extremely guilty. "Y—you were that upset about that?" The Italian bit his lip.

Antonio nodded solemnly. "You were right. I should have been there for you, when there was no one else to protect you. If I kept you with me, Francis wouldn't have had the chance to hurt you like he did. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Lovi," he apologized sincerely.

Lovino sighed guiltily and shuffled over to the table. He sat down in the chair Ludwig had occupied just last night. Their eyes met; both so vulnerable and open to the other, Lovino's telling of concern, and Antonio's of hurt and self-blame.

"Idiot, I'm not really mad about you. Just… I was really scared. I'm really happy that you rescued me when you did." The question Lovino really wanted to ask, the one that would tell him his relationship with Antonio, was left unasked, but Antonio could see the burning curiosity in the Italian's eyes.

"So you're not mad that I broke our promise?" Antonio asked, looking so much like a kicked puppy that even Lovino could barely restrain himself from giving the Spaniard a hug.

Lovino shook his head. "Of course not, idiot. I don't remember much about it, but I'm sure it didn't mean you had to be with me twenty-four-seven," he said.

Antonio smiled gently. "I'm really glad you're getting your memory back."

The Italian sighed, this time happily. "Yeah, me too."

Before they could go any further, Feliciano rushed into the room, radiating excitement. "Vee~! Fratello, big brother Spain! Guess what?" he cried as he burst into the kitchen.

Antonio smiled, humoring the energetic Italian. "What is it, Feli?" he asked.

Feliciano stood in one place, bouncing on the balls of his feet and gesturing with wide, dramatic flourishes of his arms. Even his eyes, always half-closed with the lazy, carefree way he went through life, were wide open for the occasion.

"Vee, last night I dreamt that Fratello remembered my name! And he said it, a lot! Vee, it made me so happy~!" Feliciano cried.

Antonio quirked an interested eyebrow at Feliciano. "Did he now?"

"Vee, he did, he did~! It was a great dream~!"

"Feliciano!" Lovino cried, throwing his hands over his eyes.

The younger Italian gave a dramatic gasp. "Vee, it wasn't a dream~! It really happened~! I'm so happy, vee~!" He began to charge at Lovino, preparing for an enthusiastic hug.

Lovino snatched the empty bottle and brandished it like a dangerous weapon. A very blunt, yet very _breakable _weapon. "Damn it, Feliciano! Go put some fucking pants on, you idiot!" he shouted, trying so very hard to resist the urge to immediately pound his idiot brother into the ground.

Feliciano paused in his excitement, looking down at himself. "Vee, oh right, I forgot," he said, although he didn't sound too worried about the predicament.

_Crash!_ The bottle flew into the wall, fortunately missing Feliciano by a good few inches. It shattered, the pieces falling to the ground, providing a landmine field for everyone who walked through the kitchen. Lovino grimaced, not satisfied with the painless result of the impromptu projectile.

It had the intended effect, however. With a squeak, Feliciano quickly fled the kitchen to put on pants. Antonio laughed softly. The Italian household was always so lively in the mornings.

The sound of the Spaniard immediately turned Lovino's wrath upon Antonio. "Oi, bastard! You better not have seen anything, you pervert! Got it?" he said threateningly, but without his weapon, Lovino just didn't feel so powerful.

Antonio smiled. "You're such a caring brother, Lovi~!" he fawned gently.

Lovino felt his cheeks redden despite himself. "Shut up, damn it!" he said, scowling furiously to hide the growing blush.

The Spaniard only laughed and rose from his chair, for the first time in several hours. He stretched out his cramped body and gave a loud yawn. "I think I'll clean up that dangerous mess before someone hurts themselves, si?" he said with a smile.

Lovino crossed his arms stubbornly and looked away. "Fine, then I'll make breakfast, I guess. There must be something good around here," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

* * *

><p><strong>So there's that. I just realized I've never had Lovino say "Chigi". Hmm. Oh well, at least I've gotten tomatoes and turtles in before!<strong>

**Until next time, ciao!**


	6. Chapter 6

**So, I start school next week. I should be doing the summer homework I completely procrastinated on the last three months, but instead I'm writing fanfiction. Of course, it's all because of all you wonderful reviewers. You make me smile with every review, and it makes me want to write more and more. Even if I don't respond to every one, I do appreciate everyone who reviews this story, and all my others!**

**Darn it, you guys! You'll make me fail all my classes like this, ahaha.**

**Also, I fixed a quick error, where I left out a sentence. Thank you Frostwhisker for pointing it out!**

* * *

><p>The next day, Ludwig came back to the house to visit, after only one day of being away. Feliciano had enticed him with his pleading, saying that he just <em>couldn't <em>leave his poor fratello alone, and that he _really _missed Ludwig _so _much. So the German showed up at the house, only to be told that the four of them were going to Antonio's house in Spain.

Antonio looked surprised at Feliciano's announcement. "We're going to my house?" he repeated, making sure he heard the Italian correctly.

Feliciano nodded energetically. "Vee, si!" he replied brightly.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "And when exactly were you going to ask Antonio if we could go to his house in the first place?" he asked in a bitter tone. Secretly, he was looking forward to going to Antonio's house, to see the place he spent much of his "childhood" in with his own eyes. The broken memories he had of the place were vague and didn't give him much sense of attachment to Antonio's house.

The bright look on Feliciano's face quickly transformed into one of worry. He looked up at Antonio, with those wheedling puppy eyes and pout. "Vee, can't we go to your house, big brother Spain?" he asked, sounding utterly dejected. His bottom lip trembled, completing that utterly manipulative look.

Antonio waved his hands wildly as if to dismiss Feliciano's worries. "Of course we can go to my house, Feli~!" he assured him brightly. "But why are we going there?"

Like a switched had been flipped, Feliciano's mood immediately brightened. "You'll see when we get there!" he said.

He produced a bag from out of no where. Lovino blinked. Since when did Feliciano pack a bag? And what was in the bag?

"Fratello," Lovino began.

Feliciano waved him off. "Vee, you'll see when we get there~!" he repeated. Before anyone could interrogate him further, he skipped out the door, grabbing hold of Ludwig as he passed.

"First on there gets to drive~!" Feliciano sang out.

Ludwig never ran so fast in his life.

* * *

><p>Swimming. Feliciano decided that they would all go swimming.<p>

"Well, swimming sounds nice, but why didn't you just tell us back at the apartment?" Antonio asked, looking up at the sky, where was sun hung high in the clear sky.

Feliciano gave Ludwig a sheepish glance. "Vee, Luddy doesn't like to swim," he said shyly. Indeed, the German seemed stiff (-er than usual) and like he wanted to run the other direction.

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" he asked.

Ludwig gave a light cough. "It's ridiculous to get a bunch of men together of various body types half-naked, so the inferior ones only feel bad about themselves," he said, obviously doing his best to sound dignified.

"Ah, so you're self-conscious," Antonio simplified, too oblivious to realize that Ludwig obviously was trying to save face.

The German sighed and dragged a tired hand over his face. "Yes," he admitted quietly.

Feliciano attached himself to Ludwig's arm, smiling gleefully. "Vee, yes, but I tell Luddy all the time that he looks so amazing without his shirt on~!" he announced.

A blush formed on Ludwig's cheeks, and he looked unsure whether to feel flattered or mortified at Feliciano's choice of words in front of the other two.

Ten minutes later, they were all changed and out back by Antonio's pool, out of the way of the tomatoes on the perimeter, but still on the edge, leaving plenty of room for a game of football.

Lovino was sitting at the edge of the pool, his feet dangling into the water. He loved the water's cold contrast to the hot sun beating against his skin. Farther down in the water, just where the shallow end met the deep end, his brother was dog paddling toward Ludwig, obviously intending to tackle the German when he got close enough.

His guess was right. Feliciano jumped out of the water wrapping his arms around the taller nation in a hug, his momentum knocking both of the in to the water with a large splash. His brother came up laughing playfully at Ludwig's sputtering, his lone curl bouncing apart from the rest of his dripping wet hair. Feliciano quickly tried to swim away with that awkward splashing dog paddle of his. Ludwig made chase, swimming with all the efficiency of a German soldier, and caught Feliciano within a matter of seconds.

"Hi, Lovi~! Don't you want to swim, too?"

Lovino looked away from the swimming couple before he could see what happened next. Antonio was smiling at him in that curious, lost puppy-dog look that gave him butterflies. Like the other three, he'd forgone a shirt for his swimming trunks. _Unlike _the other three, however, he wasn't unnaturally pale from some odd lack of sunlight, even when they'd been in the sun for days. In fact, the Spaniard looked _amazing _shirtless. He had a rich tan evenly spread over his toned body, bringing a flush to Lovino's cheeks at the sight.

The Italian looked away as his cheeks grew hotter. "No, I'm fine right here. Why else would I be sitting here, idiot," he muttered.

"Are you afraid you can't swim?" Antonio asked, misinterpreting Lovino's blush as a flush of embarrassment.

Lovino scowled. "Of course not! It's just fucking water! Who's scared of water?" he defended himself quickly.

Honestly, the reason Lovino chose to sit on the edge of the pool _was_ because he was afraid he couldn't swim. He couldn't remember whether he ever learned t, and was scared his muscles wouldn't take over to make up for his lack of memory. Although he was sure someone would _tell_ him if he couldn't swim, he couldn't get over the fear that they would have _forgotten _to mention that little fact. After all, both Feliciano and Antonio, the two people he assumed knew him best, were the biggest oblivious airheads in the world. He wouldn't be surprised if that little fact that _he'd drown if he got in the water _had slipped their minds.

Except right now, one of those said oblivious airheads was being eerily observant.

"Don't worry, you know how to swim," Antonio assured him with that bright smile that absolutely dazzled him.

Lovino crossed his arms stubbornly. "I said I'm not scared, dammit!" he insisted, pouting.

Antonio took hold of Lovino's wrists, still smiling. "You'll get sunburned if you stay sitting there," he chided lightly.

"What are you—Argh!" Lovino's question was cut off as Antonio gently, but firmly, tugged him clean off the edge.

Panic bubbled up in him as he felt the water quickly rise over his sides, dragging him down, trying to consume him. A wild cry of fear escaped his lips. He wrapped his arms and legs around Antonio, holding the traitorous Spaniard in an iron death grip.

"Lovi?" Antonio began tentatively.

The Italian's mind was too far gone with panic to hear him. "Damn it! Shit, fuck! I'm going to die! I'm going to fucking die! Merda! Cazzo, I'm going to die!" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a desperate flood as he hung onto Antonio for dear life.

"Lovi!" Antonio half-shouted, trying to get the hysterical nation's attention.

"W—what? C—cazzo, I'm going to die," Lovino whimpered, his face buried in Antonio's chest.

Antonio felt guilty for the little trick he played. He experimentally tried to pry Lovino off of him to no avail. No luck. Lovino had an unbreakable hold on him (and it was literally _suffocating)_.

"We're in the shallow end, so you can stand up," Antonio pointed out, stroking Lovino's head comfortingly. He knew Lovino would be scared of the water, but not _this _scared. The Italian was just like a child again.

Lovino's grip loosened enough that Antonio could breathe, but he did not immediately release the Spaniard. Cautiously, he removed his legs from around Antonio's waist to place them carefully on the ground. He moved his hands from around Antonio's neck to gently gripping his wrists.

"Here, I'll re-teach you how to swim. Just hold my hands and everything will be all right. I won't let anything bad happen to you," Antonio promised, taking Lovino's hands in his own.

"Sh—shut up bastard," Lovino replied, but did what Antonio told him to do nonetheless. As Antonio slowly got Lovino back into the habit of swimming on his own, Lovino couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu.

_ "Don't tell me you can't swim, Lovi."_

_ "Of course I can! I just don't want to, is all!" The young voice trembled with obvious anxiety._

_ "Well, if you sit there, you'll only get sunburned~!"_

_ There was a heavy splash._

_"Chigiiii! I'm going to die! I'm going to drown!" a younger, much smaller version of Lovino screamed._

_ Antonio looked the same as ever. He smiled reassuringly, holding tightly onto little Lovino's hands. "Just kick your feet, and you'll be able to swim. You can do it!" he cheered gently._

_ "Sh—shut up, bastard! I'm going to drown! I'm going to die! I can't swim!" Lovino cried, flailing wildly in the water._

_ "Lovino, I promise I'll never let anything happen to you. I'm right here. I won't let you drown," Antonio promised._

_ Younger Lovino pouted stubbornly, looking away as he followed the instruction of Antonio while he learned to swim. "Sh—shut up," was all he could say, trusting the Spaniard too much for his own comfort._

"Lovino? Are you ok?"

Lovino came out of his daze with the snap of his head. He blinked up at Antonio, who was looking at him with a worried expression on his face. It reminded him so much of the memory that just resurfaced that he had to look away, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

"I'm fine, dammit. Just… Thinking about something." He was unwilling to admit that he remembered something about Antonio, although he himself wasn't quite sure why he was reluctant to share these resurfacing memories with the Spaniard.

Antonio smiled gently, allowing Lovino to get away with his excuse. "Ok then, please pay attention, or you'll never be able to swim by yourself," he scolded playfully.

Lovino splashed his face in the water to try and cool his heated cheeks. "F—fine, but only because I want to swim by myself. Not for any other reason!" he said, not knowing why he wanted to make the point clear other than impulse.

The Spaniard nodded, although he looked slightly confused of what Lovino was implying. "Ok. Let's continue then. Just kick your legs, you can do it!" he cheered.

"Of course I can, dammit! I'm not some kid!"

One thing Lovino couldn't deny was the warm feelings it brought to be able to spend some time with Antonio, just like they did in his broken memories.

* * *

><p><strong>I just thought of this chapter today. I actually had a dream about it, with Lovino and Antonio swimming, and Lovino remembering something from his past that was very similar to the present. Except, Feliciano and Ludwig weren't there, but Austria was! I don't even remember how he tied into it. Yay for dreams!<strong>

**Until next time, ciao~!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Yay! I finally got this out! I really have been busy since school started (barely a week in, too!). But not with homework. Oh, no, after my summer homework, I've barely had ANY homework at ALL! I've been busy with band and academic decathlon. Although, even if I wanted to write this week, I had major writer's block for this chapter. I figured it out though!**

**But, whatever homework I did had, I made sure to finish. Blue Wallpaper threatened me with Germany if I didn't after all, so I immediately got right on it. It was very good motivation.**

**Hopefully, this chapter doesn't have as many mistakes as the last one did (boy, was that embarrassing). What's more, I actually provided translations at the end of this one!**

* * *

><p>One month.<p>

Antonio had been living in the Italies' apartment for one whole month now. Normally, being allowed to stay over for so long would send him into happy little seizures, and he'd attach himself to his little Lovi until said Italian became as red as an adorable little tomato, or until the bruises on his arm from Lovino's cute little tomato-like-head butts (which, surprisingly, didn't actually _feel _as nice as a real tomato) hurt too much for Antonio to hold on any longer—whichever came first.

Unfortunately, Lovino still couldn't remember much, except for a couple broken memories that could mean _anything _when put in context. The Italian still hadn't remembered what type of relationship he had with Antonio. That meant Antonio had to keep his hands off. For an entire month.

An entire, agonizing four weeks.

It was torture for Antonio to have to keep from hugging Lovino. Especially when his little Lovi acted to adorable and huggable and lovable with that beautiful red flush that painted his churros-soft cheeks so cutely (ah, churros were so good at soothing his nerves, with their soft, squishy, chewy texture and delicious taste~). The sight was just too irresistible, and sometimes Antonio forgot his determination to leave Lovino alone until he remembered everything about the Spaniard on his own, and launched himself at his Lovi in an enthusiastic hug.

The accidental hugs always gave Lovino such a strange look. The Italian's face was contorted painfully; he looked torn by some inner conflict. Even after Antonio released him, Lovino remained stiff, with that horrible look still twisting his features. The sight made Antonio's stomach churn with guilt, and he resolved to try even harder to keep from hugging Lovino, to save his oblivious little (former) lover from whatever pain the embrace caused him.

It was difficult, though, and more often than not, Antonio failed.

As hard as it was for Antonio to keep his hands off his lover, it must have been triply hard for Lovino, _at least._ Antonio couldn't even imagine the frustration his pobrecito tomate must feel, unable to remember anything except for a puzzle that was missing too many pieces to form a picture. If what both Ludwig and Feliciano assured him was true, and Lovino still loved Antonio, then the Italian must feel confused and lost with feelings he didn't understand.

It would be so easy for Antonio to ease that confusion. All he needed to say was that, before the accident, the two had been lovers. Then everything would make sense, and things could begin to go back to normal, and they would all live happily ever after.

But Antonio was scared.

He'd never been frightened of anything as badly as he was of telling Lovino the truth. Even the memories of being tortured by England all those years ago (memories that still occasionally haunted his dreams) paled in comparison to his fear of rejection. He just didn't know what he'd do if Lovino didn't love him like everyone seemed so sure he did.

So he kept silent, his confessions held at bay by his fears. He'd allow Lovino to make the first move this time, when the Italian was ready.

For an entire month, Antonio remained awkwardly in Italy, doing whatever he could to try and help Lovino feel comfortable, and told him whatever he needed to know that he couldn't remember himself.

Except for their relationship. Whenever he tried to bring up the topic, Antonio would always quickly change the subject. It earned him a suspicious glare from Lovino every time, but at least it was better than the feared rejection, and Lovino allowed the Spaniard to steer the conversation out of dangerous waters.

It made the atmosphere around them tense and unnatural. Lovino looked just as awkward around Antonio as Antonio felt around Lovino. The Spaniard began to wonder if it would be better if he just left Italy, and allowed Feliciano to care for his brother alone. At least for a while.

But Antonio just couldn't leave. As much as he wondered if Lovino might _benefit _from a separation, he still didn't want to have to let Lovino go. He was hoping, with all his heart, that he would be the first to see Lovino regain his memory in full. The entire time he stayed with the Italies, he constantly wavered between the two decisions—between love and loving selfishness—until the decision was made for him at the end of the month.

It was a normal, lazy day. Lovino and Feliciano had both retired to Lovino's room for a siesta. Antonio was about to settle into Feliciano's bed (he'd taken over Feliciano's room once Ludwig was gone and the Italian wanted to sleep with his brother) when his cell phone rang.

He picked it up. It was his boss. He gave the screen a puzzled look. After all, his boss knew not to call him during a siesta. In fact, his boss _took _a siesta himself.

"Hola?" he answered the phone, masking his confusion behind a falsely cheerful tone.

"Buenos días, España. Sorry for calling. I know you must be about to take a siesta," his boss greeted.

At least the man was kind enough to apologize. "No, not at all. I decided to skip it today while I'm taking care of Lovi," Antonio said.

"Lovi?"

Antonio mentally slapped himself. That's right; his boss didn't know the human names of any of the nations. "I mean Romano," he amended.

"El sur de Italia?" his boss asked to clarify.

"Si!"

"Ah, well, that's the thing." His boss cleared his throat, sounding nervous.

Antonio's eyes narrowed at the phone, even though he knew his boss couldn't see him. "What's 'the thing'~?" he asked, his voice too sweet.

He could imagine the shiver that went down his boss's spine at the sound of Antonio's dangerous tone.

His boss cleared his throat again. "Well, we need you here in Spain now. Things are starting to get more difficult."

Antonio grimaced. Leave? Now? While he knew it might help Lovino get better faster, he still didn't want to be parted from his little love.

"Pero…" he began to protest.

His boss cut him off. "We need you here to boost morale. Be here by tomorrow. That's an order." There was a click, and the dial tone signaled the end of the call.

He sighed, setting his cell phone to the side. Just great. Leaving Lovino in his time of need. That was just what the amnesiac needed. More stress.

He got into bed, suddenly exhausted. Oh well, this was something he would deal with when he woke up from his siesta.

* * *

><p>"Vee, be safe~! Don't die in a horrible car accident that tears your limbs from your body, big brother Spain~!" Feliciano sang out.<p>

The other two nations grimaced at the image the younger Italian dragged out. "Er, I'll be careful, Feli," Antonio promised, looking unsure on how to answer.

"Vee, ok~! Come back soon, ok~?"

Antonio nodded, glancing to Lovino as he did so. "Oh, I definitely will," he said.

Lovino blushed slightly when their eyes met. "Promise?" he asked, in a half-hearted mumble. He didn't really expect an answer.

The Spaniard gave one anyway. He gave a bright grin and held out his pinky. "Of course I'll return!" he promised sincerely.

Lovino's blush became more pronounced. He looked away as he linked his pinky with Antonio's. "G—good! You better come visit soon, then!" he said.

Antonio wrapped both him and Feliciano in a big hug. "As soon as I have time."

The embrace sent many emotions running through Lovino at the same time. He partially wanted to lean into the hug, and partially wanted to break away from embarrassment. A part of him wanted to gently shove Feliciano out of the hug, and another part wanted to hurt Feliciano for stealing that part of Antonio's attention from him. In short, he felt awkward and ridiculous.

Too soon, Antonio pulled away. "Adios~!" he said, getting into his car and starting it up.

"Ciao, big brother Spain~! Vee~!" Feliciano called happily, waving his arms in dramatic motions.

"A—arrivederci!" Lovino called out as well.

Antonio smiled warmly, and Lovino wondered why the Spaniard seemed so nostalgic so suddenly. "Arrivederci, Lovi," he said out the open window, so quietly that Lovino almost missed it.

Once the Spaniard drove away, Lovino felt remarkably empty. He sighed and followed Feliciano back inside. It was strange, with the apartment only having him and his brother. His first memories—the ones he got after the accident—were of living in this apartment with three others. Now it felt like they were leaving, one by one. The thought rose unbidden and filled him with depression. He didn't want to be left alone again.

Wait, again? Why did he think that? He didn't remember ever being left alone in the first place. They were memories, he supposed, that he would learn about later. He sighed irritably. Why did his memories have to evade him like this? They made his life so much harder.

"Vee, fratello?" Feliciano said questioningly, looking at his brother with worried eyes. "What's wrong?"

Lovino gave a fake yawn. "Oh, nothing. Just tired. Going to bed now," he said, even though it was barely 7 in the evening.

Feliciano frowned, the sorrowful lines of his mouth ill-fitting with the smile and laugh lines that framed his mouth. "Vee, but fratello…" he began.

"No, really, I'm just tired today. I didn't take a good nap during our siesta today. Don't worry, ok, Feliciano?" Lovino assured his brother.

The name was like a magic word that transformed Feliciano's features. Lovino couldn't help but note how simple his younger brother's emotions were. He gave Lovino a bright smile and nod.

"Vee, ok then, fratello. I'll be to bed soon, so don't worry, si~?" he replied, still nodding in that idiotic, yet still slightly adorable, way.

Lovino gave a single, terse nod. "Right, I won't," he confirmed as he retreated to his room.

He collapsed on the bed without removing his clothes. It was strange how empty it felt with just him in it. Since he got back, he always slept with either Antonio—while Ludwig was still there—or Feliciano. Only this time when he was alone, his body felt so drained that he had no problem falling asleep without anyone there with him.

* * *

><p><em> It was horrible, the things they did to his body without even touching him. Italy—the soft underbelly of Europe, they called it, as if it was some great armored dragon—was the weak link to Germany and his boss. His horrible, horrible, homicidal boss. Romano's brother was dead-set on doing everything he could to protect Germany, no matter what. So he had to help, too. They were one in the same nation, brothers since the beginning. There was no question that Romano would stand by his brother in the face of torture and death, even if he was so scared that his entire body shook with violent tremors. But he would stand and fight as one with Veneziano. Together, as Italy.<em>

_ So why was Romano paying the price alone?_

_ He was sitting in his room, waiting for orders from his boss to go fight. In his arms, he cradled a gun he never wanted to use; no matter how much he had threatened he would previously. His face was the color of the white sheets spread over his mattress, where he sat waiting for the dreaded call. The blanket had long since been stored away, since he'd rarely been home since Italy entered this damned war. Romano felt a small tinge of regret at this, the lack of blanket. The room was dreadfully cold—so much that it raised goose bumps on every inch of bare flesh not protected by his uniform._

_ Veneziano was gone somewhere—with Germany, probably. That was fine, good even. Germany would protect the younger half of Italy. Probably he wouldn't even have to protect Veneziano. Knowing Romano's little brother, the Italian would be waving that white flag around before the Allies even raised their guns. And then Veneziano would be safe._

_ Nervous giggles bubbled out of Romano's mouth, quickly turning into quick, panicked breaths of hysteria. He gulped at the air desperately, as if there was not enough oxygen in the world for him._

_ Here he was, waiting for that call—damn it, why wouldn't his boss just _call _already—all alone and frightened. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want a part of this damn _war _anymore. Mussolini and Hitler could take their alliance and shove it up their—_

_ A shrill ringing broke the silence._

_ Romano gasped at the suddenness of it. He stared at the cell phone on the nightstand, ringing that horrible death-bringing tone, with a look of pure terror on his face._

_ No, no, no. It was too soon. He wasn't ready to go. It was too early in the day to fight a war. Yes, it definitely was, he thought irrationally, glancing at his bedside clock. After all, it was 3 in the afternoon. Didn't Americans sleep in until at least 4? Wasn't this when the English took their tea? What about siesta time? Oh dio, he wasn't ready for this!_

_ For a wild moment, Romano considered throwing his phone right out the window. He didn't want to fight! He was too scared. This wasn't even his war. It was Germany's! And if Veneziano wanted to help, that was his fault!_

_ Veneziano…_

_ That's right. He couldn't let his helpless little brother fight alone. Death was a very real possibility for the Italies. Two personifications for one nation—completely unnecessary. Until one was killed, both Romano and Veneziano were almost human._

_ While Romano waged this silent battle within himself, the phone stopped ringing. He relaxed, unaware that he'd been tense in the first place. Maybe it wasn't his boss after all…_

_ The phone started ringing again, and this time he yelped. He had worked himself to the edge of tears from fear, and his small panic attach was rapidly building._

_ "Oh, dio, dio, dio. Cazzo," Romano whispered desperately as he slowly neared the phone. This call was a death sentence. Any confrontation with the Allies, and he would surely die._

_ Eyeing the phone like it was a cobra, rearing its head back for the lightning-quick fatal strike, Romano tried to take deep breaths in an attempt to compose himself before answering to his boss. It didn't work. His breath still came in shallow gasps. He was beginning to feel light-headed and dizzy._

_ Finally, he answered the phone, standing stiff with the gun pressed tightly to his chest._

_ "C—ciao?" He gulped, hating the frightened sound of his own voice._

_ "Hola, Romano? Boss Spain here~!"_

_ He almost cried in relief. So he wasn't about to march to his death. Yet. The thought turned the relieved cry into a wracking sob. He dropped the gun to wipe at his eyes as they burned with tears._

_ "B—bastard, what are you calling for?" Romano demanded with half-hearted annoyance, struggling to keep his voice even._

_ "What's wrong, Romano? You sound… Scared." Damn bastard, being observant only when Romano _didn't _want him to be._

_ "Nothing, d—damn it!" Romano wouldn't be able to convince even Veneziano with that line._

_ "Yes there is. I'm coming over right now. Be good until then, ok?" Spain said._

_ Romano didn't know whether to feel pleased or annoyed. "Don't do that! I'm in the middle of a fucking war!" Leave it to that idiot to drive the stuttering right out of his voice with a single phone call._

_ "That's exactly why I should come over! You need my magic cheering up charm, and it only works in person! I'm right around the corner anyway. See you soon~!" and with a click, Spain hung up._

_ Spain was right around the corner? Romano decided he should feel creeped out. Very, very creeped out._

_ There was a knock at the door before Romano could contemplate the levels of Spain's creeper status. He stiffened again as he went to open the door, knowing it was Spain but still half-expecting to see his boss making a house call. Taking a deep breath so his former caretaker wouldn't see how scared he was because of the war, he opened the door._

_ "Hey, basta—Ugh!" A sharp pain in his chest cut him off. His hands flew to his heart as it squeezed painfully tight._

_ Spain caught him before he hit the ground as his legs gave out on him. "Romano! Qué pasó? Are you ok?" he asked worriedly. The older nation's hands brushed over Romano's body, automatically checking for wounds, a habit developed from thousands of years' worth of wars._

_ "It's noth—Argh!" Again, Romano was cut off by a wave of pain consuming his body. He coughed violent, wrenching coughs with intermittent gasps of air._

_ "Romano!"_

_ He barely heard Spain's shouts, being eaten by pain as he was. He wheezed and coughed up blood, realizing why he was hurting so mysteriously and suddenly. The Allies had reached South Italy._

_ Spain blanched at the sight—odd for a nation who'd seen bloodshed since he was born. "No, Romano! You can't die!" he cried, hugging the nation tight against his chest. He knew how vulnerable the Italies were to death. It was the reason the two preferred to run than fight. More than anything, Spain wanted to help Romano, but all he could do was hug the Italian tightly, and hopefully he could somehow trap Romano's soul to remain in its body with sheer physical force._

_ Romano never realized how comforting Spain's warm chest could be. Even through the pain-induced haze, he managed to give Spain a rueful smile, trying to comfort him in the only way Romano knew how._

_ "B—bastard. I'm not going… To die.. Damn it." He grunted as the pain assaulted him relentlessly. He felt as if his insides were being ruthlessly torn to shreds. He clutched at the front of Spain's shirt, using the cloth to muffle his screams._

_ "Romano! Hang in there! I'll help you! I will!" Spain promised recklessly._

_ If he wasn't in so much pain, Romano would have laughed bitterly. There was nothing Spain could do for him. They were nations, but for all their immortality and (sometimes) supernatural abilities, when it came down to it, they were only human._

_ As it was, he could only look up into Spain's desperate eyes. He felt sweat bead on his forehead from the effort it took not to start bawling from the pain of it all._

_ "Take care of Veneziano," he said._

_ "Roma—Lovino." Tears overflowed from Spain's eyes. It didn't suit the cheerful nation to cry. It was Romano's job to be emotional, not his._

_ But… Lovino… That was new, using his human name. Romano almost smiled. "Arrivederci." With that, Romano let his head fall back, succumbing to the pain._

_ "Lovino! Don't leave me! Lovino!"_

_ Idiot. Didn't he know 'arrivederci' meant they'd meet again, even if it had to be in the afterlife? But it was too late to tell him, as Romano quickly slipped into the ever-welcoming darkness._

* * *

><p>Lovino woke up with a start. It was dark in the room, and it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust. Sweat covered his body, his hair plastered to his skin and the blanket tangled around him. Strange, he didn't remember covering himself with a blanket before he fell asleep.<p>

'Before he fell asleep'… So had it all been a dream? Or was it a memory? His chest ached from the remembered nightmare. He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to banish the horrible images from his mind. If the dream had been a memory, then he wished it would go back to the dark recesses of his mind, where it belonged.

Breathing heavily, he looked to his side. His brother lay curled next to him, sleeping peacefully, even though the blanket had been stolen from him. Feliciano seemed to be currently unaware of Lovino's disturbed state of mind, and appeared to be having sweeter dreams than his brother. Good. Feliciano was too innocent for that kind of pain.

"Lucky bastard," Lovino whispered fondly.

He disentangled him from the blanket and laid it gently over Feliciano instead. Carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping Italian (although, considering how much Lovino apparently tossed about in his sleep, it seemed nothing would awaken Feliciano), Lovino got up to bed and went to the bathroom.

He splashed water on his face. Letting the water run (the sound comforted him) he examined himself in the mirror. There were dark bags under his eyes, although whether they were just from that night or years of insomnia he had no way of telling. His skin was drained of blood from the horror of his memory/dream, and clammy with sweat.

"Vee, fratello?"

Feliciano's sudden entrance made Lovino jump. He pressed a hand against his wildly beating heart and turned to face his younger brother.

"D—damn it, you scared me. I thought you were asleep," Lovino said, holding onto the counter for support.

The younger Italian still appeared tired. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned. "I felt you leave, and you seemed upset," he said.

Lovino felt awkward. "O—oh. I didn't mean to wake you up," he said in an apologetic tone.

Feliciano blinked at Lovino with concerned eyes. "What's wrong, fratello?" he asked.

The hand over his heart pressed just a bit harder against the aching. He looked away, feeling old resentment rise. As he remembered from the dream, Feliciano didn't have to suffer. It was just him by himself, in a war that his brother wanted, and he didn't. It wasn't fair.

"Nothing," he muttered, trying to squash the emotions.

Even though he didn't say what was bothering him, Feliciano seemed to understand. He crossed the bathroom to wrap his arms around Lovino, burying his face into the older Italian's chest.

"I'm sorry," he said in a trembling voice.

Lovino didn't return the embrace. "Sorry about what? You didn't do anything," he said.

Feliciano shook his head without pulling away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he repeated over and over.

They stood like that for a long while, until Lovino came to terms with his emotions and finally hugged his brother back.

* * *

><p><strong>Phew, I'm tired now. I had band practice, and shopped a lot today, so I'm wiped out. Anyway...<strong>

**Dio (Italian)- God (In Spanish, dios=god. Isn't that just great)**

**Cazzo (Italian)- Fuck**

**Buenos días, España (Spanish)- Good day/morning, Spain.**

**El sur de Italia (Spanish)- South Italy, or The south of Italy**

**Pero (Spanish)- But**

** Hola/Adios (Spanish)- Hello/Goodbye (Those are just basic words, si?)**

**Ciao (Italian)- Apparently, this means hello AND goodbye**

**Arrivederci (Italian)- Like it says in the chapter, it means goodbye, but it also has the implication that you will meet again in the future.**

**And that's that! Don't expect me to always translate though, ahaha. I'm a little lazy, you know.**

**Anyway, that's all for now! Until next time!**

**Ciao~! And Arrivederci!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, look I'm alive! Ahaha, sorry about the wait. I've had this chapter done for a long time. Like, a couple weeks after the last update long. But my internet went down. It's actually STILL down, just I'm using my mom's work computer to type this out (which I won't be able to do very often).**

**This chapter… Short, and I feel like I could have done a better job with it, but I really haven't had time to really hash it out. I've started applying to colleges, and I finally figured out what I want to do with my life.**

**But enough with that. Here's the chapter you've been waiting so patiently for! Just a heads up, there'll probably be only a couple more chapters at most. But yeah, here we go!**

* * *

><p>"Ve, ciao big brother Big Brother Spain~! How are you?"<p>

Feliciano paced around the living room, talking on the phone with a delighted look on his face. He loved the daily phone calls from Antonio, enjoying filling in the Spaniard on how he and Lovino were doing. It was like a special time for the younger Italian for the opportunity to talk to Antonio. After all, he'd rarely seen the Spaniard previously, since he was always with Luddy, and Antonio with Lovino. And now it had been a week since Antonio left, and still hadn't gotten a chance to take a break from work to come visit the Italian brothers.

"Ahaha, I'm pretty tired, actually. My boss keeps loading me up with all this work. I barely get any sleep!" came the response.

He made a little noise of sympathy for Antonio. "Ve, I don't have that problem. Fratello always helps me with it!" Feliciano said, warmth blooming in his chest at the thought of how kind and caring his fratello was to him. Then the warmth did a sudden sickening plunge into his stomach. "Ve, he _used _to," he mumbled away from the receiver. After losing his memory, Lovino wasn't much help with the paperwork anymore.

Antonio gave a tired chuckle, thankfully not catching the depressing addition Feliciano made. "That's great, Feli." There was a pause. Feliciano twisted the fabric of his shirt nervously, knowing what was coming next and wishing it wouldn't. "Speaking of your fratello… Could I speak to him?"

Feliciano could hear the anxiety in Antonio's voice. Every time he called, he asked for Lovino, who flat-out refused to talk to the Spaniard, leaving Feliciano to come up with some excuse to spare Antonio's feelings. It made the younger Italian even more worried about his brother, and sympathetic toward the lovesick Spaniard.

"Ve, I'm sorry big brother Spain. Fratello is really tired from yesterday. He's still sleeping," Feliciano lied. The guilt twisted his insides into tight little coils, until he thought he'd be sick from the sensation. He wanted to tell Antonio the truth so badly, but feared the resulting reaction he'd receive.

It was already one in the afternoon, however. Too late to sleep in, but too early for a siesta. Feliciano knew that Antonio didn't quite believe him, as much as they both wished the reason was as simple as that. He hoped Antonio would drop it.

"Well, ok then, I guess. Has he regained any more memories?" he asked finally, deciding to let the excuse slide by.

Although Feliciano was relieved that Antonio accepted the excuse, this was another difficult question to answer. Not because he didn't want to—he really wanted to be able to tell Antonio—but because he was simply not sure whether Lovino remembered anything new or not. It had been a while since he managed to get Lovino to say more than a few words to him.

"Ve… Just one, I think, that I told you about… The one from right after you left?" the Italian replied, hesitant.

"Ah, did you ever figure out what it was?" The excitement was clear in Antonio's voice.

Feliciano licked his dry lips, nervous. "No, but I think it was really really bad," he said.

"Si, you said that already."

"No, I mean worse than I said. Like, really_ really _bad," Feliciano said, with an emphatic shake of his head, even though Antonio couldn't see it. "Remember how I said he was in the bathroom crying really badly? And he looked at me like… Like he was _scared _of me? Like he was afraid I'd hurt him or something?"

The memory of Lovino, looking at him with those wide, accusing eyes, hunched over slightly like he'd withdrawn deep into himself, far away from Feliciano, made his heart squeeze painfully. Even worse, there wasn't any _anger _in Lovino's entire expression. If there had been at least a slightly spiteful look, then Feliciano would know that his older brother would be fine, and was still himself.

He heard Antonio's slow intake of breath on the other side of the phone. "Si," was all he said, waiting for Feliciano to continue.

The Italian struggled to keep his breathing even. "It's worse now."

"Worse? How do you mean?" he asked, concern flooding his tone. It made Feliciano feel guilty that he even brought it up.

"Well, it's just that, um… Ve…" It was a difficult concept to explain, since Feliciano most only _felt _that it had gotten worse. "He's… Fratello is very very scared of something. He won't share a bed with me anymore. I don't think he's been sleeping either. He looks so tired." Not that Feliciano saw much of Lovino anymore. "He never comes out of his room, and he never eats anymore," he tried to explain, feeling like he was doing a bad job of it.

For a human, not eating for a week would be a reason to go to the hospital for an eating disorder. For nations, it wasn't too uncommon. In times of famine, that is, when a nation declined their own food, hoping it would help to feed their own citizens. As it was, Lovino refusing to eat was a cause for concern, considering there was no famine in Italy at all.

"Has anything been going on in South Italy? Is there a famine or something?" Antonio asked, knowing there wasn't, but still hoping there was. Neither Italian was good at fasting for any reason, eating at any opportunity they got. Antonio was sure that no nation ate as voraciously as the Italies did.

Feliciano understood the question well. He wished that was the reason as well, although he was fully aware that it was not. "No, he just suddenly stopped eating," he said. "I think it's because of whatever the memory was."

A silence passed between the two. Both were thinking the same thing—what could Lovino have possibly remembered that made Lovino lock himself away from the world?

Feliciano was first to break the silence. "Ve, big brother Spain… Please come back soon. I think fratello will feel better with you here," he said tentatively.

"What? Why would he be happier with me than you? You're his brother," Antonio replied, sounding confused.

"But he loves you, ve! Right now, he's afraid of me…" He sniffed loudly and wiped at his suddenly tearful eyes. It hurt him that his dear older brother refused to even speak to him, or acknowledge his presence with more than a nod or shake of his head (mostly shaking his head no, as Lovino refused most of the things Feliciano offered him).

"You don't know that for sure…" Antonio said uncertainly, unwilling to accept something like that unless Lovino said it himself. Everything between him and Lovino just felt platonic, and he didn't want to throw his heart out just for it to be stomped on.

"Ve, yes I do! I'm north Italy, remember? We're both halves of the same nation. I _know_ he loves you, even if he doesn't realize it!" Feliciano insisted.

Antonio sighed, unwilling to continue the conversation. "Either way, I'm stuck here, Feli. I'll return as soon as I can, I really will," he promised.

"Ve, alright then."

"Bueno, I have to go now, if I'm ever going to get all this work done in time. Adios, Feli~!"

"Ve, ciao~! See you soon~!"

Feliciano felt much better after talking with Antonio. He decided to go talk to Lovino, even if his brother refused to talk to him. Whenever the two were being obstinate, it was always the younger Feliciano who won. And so he would put that stubbornness to good use.

He skipped over to Lovino's room and knocked on the door. "Ve, fratello, it's me~!" he called in his most upbeat tone.

As expected, there was no answer, but he went in anyway. Lovino didn't even glance up as his younger brother just waltzed in. In fact, he dug deeper under the blankets, so that only the tiny curl poked out from under it. Feliciano sighed lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying not to allow Lovino's actions to get him down.

"Big brother Spain called, ve~," he announced, turning his head to watch Lovino's curl.

No motion except for the slow rise and fall of the blankets from Lovino's breathing.

Feliciano pressed on. "Ve, fratello, you know he's really worried about you."

There was a slight twitch from Lovino's curl, meaning that what Feliciano said affected him somewhat. That was promising, so Feliciano continued.

"Why won't you tell me what you dreamt about, fratello? It'll make both me and big brother Spain feel a lot better."

There was a sharper twitch of the curl and Lovino's breathing hitched. Feliciano could just barely make out the soft, nearly inaudible gasp from his brother as he froze. That confused Feliciano. It really wasn't like Lovino to act like this, and it worried him. Just what was it that Lovino dreamt about that made him act like this?

He heard a soft mumble, and realized that Lovino was speaking for the first time in a week. Excited, he leaned closer, trying in vain to catch what the quietly spoken words were.

"Ve, what was that~?" Feliciano didn't bother to mask his excitement. It permeated through his entire being with just the sound of Lovino's voice. He held his breath so as to better hear what Lovino was saying.

"War," was the single word, so soft that Feliciano almost missed it.

Feliciano let his breath out carefully. There had been so many wars in the past, but if he had to guess, Feliciano would think that Lovino remembered their last one: World War II. Guilt gnawed at his stomach. He had to make sure.

"W—war, fratello?" he asked nervously, hoping that he'd heard wrong.

Whatever Feliciano expected, he certainly did _not_ expect the sudden explosion of movement the simple question caused. Lovino shot upright, the blanket thrown back, his eyes flashing in a blazing fury. Feliciano yelped at the abrupt movement, jumping backward in surprise and nearly fell off the bed. Then he cowered from the pure anger that Lovino glared at him with. His fratello had never looked at him like that. Maybe he shot such glares at others, but never Feliciano.

It was frightening to see your normally-kind brother glaring at you with such _hatred _and _accusation._

The accusation was the worst.

"Yes the war, dammit!" Lovino shouted, his voice on the edge of hysteria. "The war _you _made me fight!"

Feliciano shivered with guilt and fear of his brother. He remembered all too clearly the way Antonio sounded over the phone, shouting something incoherent through his sobs. The only thing Feliciano could make from that was that something was terribly wrong with Lovino. He could even feel that something was wrong, deep in his heart, like some distant discomfort or nausea he couldn't get rid of.

He'd never guessed that he'd hurry home to see his brother lying there, dying, with nothing anyone could do about it.

"W—we were fighting it t—t—together, fratello," Feliciano said in a small voice. The excuse sounded weak to his ears, and he felt ashamed of it.

"_Together_?" Lovino's voice shot up a couple octaves in indignation. "If we were _together_, then why the _fuck _was _I _the one getting fucking _torn apart_, while you were somewhere off in Germany, as happy as can fucking _be_?"

Feliciano was at a loss of what to say. "Mi dispiace, fratello. Ve…" Feliciano said his tiniest voice, seriously frightened by his brother now. He looked away, biting into his lower lip. Lovino had never said a word of accusation to him after the war, even when Feliciano arrived to find him broken and bloodied, and Antonio clutching him as if both their lives depended on it. It was truly a miracle that the Allies hadn't completely destroyed South Italy, when it was the weaker part of the already-weak country.

Lovino was shaking and obviously trying not to cry. He looked away, his hair falling over his eyes so that Feliciano could no longer see the tears. An awkward silence dropped heavily over them.

Feliciano fidgeted unused to silence of any kind—awkward or otherwise. "Ve, fratello?" he asked tentatively.

His brother only fell back onto the bed, pulling the blanket back up high over his head, so that not even the bouncy little curl was visible. They sat in silence for a while longer, Feliciano watching his brother's form lying still beneath the blankets. It was so unmoving that he wouldn't be surprised if Lovino was holding his breath.

After awhile, he sighed lightly, if only to break the oppressive silence. "I'm really sorry, fratello. If I could go back, I'd never have asked you to fight for me. It's my fault, I'm sorry," Feliciano said quietly.

He watched Lovino, hoping that his brother would forgive him, like he'd always forgiven Feliciano before. After a few breathless minutes, however, nothing happened. Tears stung Feliciano's eyes, and he allowed them to drop freely. He got up and moved to the door.

"Mi dispiace, fratello. Buona note." He paused again, giving Lovino one last chance to say something. There was no response; not even the slightest shift beneath the blanket. If Feliciano didn't know better, he'd say his brother was either asleep or dead, and didn't even know that Feliciano had even apologized at all.

Unfortunately, he did know better.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for any historical inaccuracies. I'm a little busy to be doing much research into it.<strong>

**Also, I started a tumblr for SpaMano. I can access the account from my phone, so I can update it anytime. I'll be posting pictures I find around the net, videos, links to some good stories, and my own original stories. So if you really want to read something and don't want to wait for me to get access to a computer, then my account is smile-love-shine. The blog is SpaMano Love (of course, right?).**

**Anyway, forgive me for the small advertisement. Until next chapter! Ciao~!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey I'm back. It's been a while, no? I was really busy after I got my internet back, with homework and NaNoWriMo and applying to colleges and just life in general. I've been exhausted quite often, but I'm not on anxiety medication so that's good news, right? Not that anything works on me, unless there's a lot of it…**

**Anyway, enough of my rambling! I feel bad for making you guys wait so long, so I'll do my best to write an awesome last few chapters, and then get started on my other stories without beginning more multi-chapter fics! Actually, that's probably a lie…**

**Sorry in advance for the inconsistencies in what I call the characters, ahaha. Also, I'm not sure how a person would look after hiding in bed, not eating for weeks, but I did my best!**

**Oh well, on to the story, then~!**

* * *

><p>When Spain finally managed to escape from his boss a couple weeks later, the situation at Feliciano and Lovino's house was not much better.<p>

He was greeted at the door by Feliciano. The tiny Italian didn't even attempt to open his half-closed eyes. For the first time in all the time Spain had known the Italies, Feliciano had a long, tired face, his curl drooping as if it too lacked the energy to give any semblance of perkiness.

"Ve, c—ciao big brother Spain," Feliciano said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, probably from exhaustion.

Spain grinned uncertainly. "Hola, Feli. How are things going?" he asked, trying to inject enthusiasm into his nervous tone.

Feliciano gave a long, loud yawn before answering. "Lovi still hasn't come out of his room, ve. I'm scared," he admitted, his bottom lip trembling dangerously.

Realizing he must have stepped on a landmine (See? Spain could be observant sometimes!), Spain dropped a hand on top of Feliciano's head, tossing his hair affectionately. He was careful to avoid that dangerous little curl that both Italies had. "Don't worry, Feli! I'm here now, so I'll make everything better!" he reassured the upset Italian.

"Ve, si, you will. I know you will, because Fratello loves you," Feliciano said confidently, albeit a bit weary.

The amount of conviction in Feliciano's voice made the Spaniard blush madly. "I—I don't know about that, but I'll do my best to make him feel better anyway," he said, still unwilling to believe that Lovino could still love him. He decided to change the subject. "Have you not been sleeping well?" he asked as the Italian yawned again.

Feliciano shook his head, swallowing another yawn. "Ve, I've been so worried about Fratello. He still hasn't eaten anything, and it's been so long, and I'm scared he'll hurt himself! So I can't sleep, ve," he admitted, fidgeting nervously.

Spain chewed his lip thoughtfully, and then nodded. "I'll get him to eat something. Do you have any fresh tomatoes?" he asked.

Now Feliciano looked nervous. His fidgeting increased and he looked away. "No," he mumbled, so quietly that Spain almost didn't hear.

At this bit of news, the Spaniard's mouth dropped open in shock. "What? No tomatoes? No wonder Lovi won't eat! Go to the store and get some right now!" he demanded.

Feliciano nodded vigorously. "Ve, I will! I'll be back really soon!" he promised, not commenting at all that he was being ordered around in his own apartment. With that, he left, leaving Spain alone in the living room.

He sighed once the Italian hurried out, energy renewed at the prospect of his brother eating again. Eventually, once he pushed his own qualms away, he approached Lovino's room tentatively. Now wasn't the time for hesitance. His little tomate needed him now.

Spain knocked on the door softly, breath caught in his throat. When there was no answer, he knocked again. "Lovi? Are you in there?" he called out.

He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side. At least he knew Lovino was still alive, although his Italian once-lover wasn't responding. "I'm coming in," he announced, and opened the door to enter the room.

Lovino was on his bed, with the blankets pulled over his head so that only the curl was showing. Antonio saw the lump that was his adorable Italian stiffen a bit upon his entrance. He smiled fondly. It had been so long since he had a chance to talk to Lovino, let alone see him, that his heart soared despite the current circumstances.

Antonio sat on the bed. "I missed you," he began.

There was no response except for a slight shift beneath the blankets. Antonio sighed and forged onward. "You know, you should probably get some fresh air. It's not good for your health to be hiding in your room all day."

Still nothing. He flopped down onto his stomach next to Lovino, earning a small squeak from the silent Italian. "I work so hard for so long in order to see you really soon, and this is all I get? I can't even look at your cute little face?" he asked, the pout plain in his voice.

Slowly, Lovino pulled the blankets down to reveal his head. Antonio sucked in breath. The Italian looked so pale, no doubt from hiding beneath the blankets, away from the sun for so long. The only color in Lovino's face were the dark bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and those stunning eyes peeking out from sunken sockets. There wasn't even a blush on his cheeks, sucked inward from not eating for several weeks.

It took several seconds for Antonio to regain his breath. "I heard…" He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. Feliciano hadn't been kidding when he said that Lovino wasn't eating. "I heard you weren't eating," he said finally.

When those words left his mouth, Lovino once again retreated beneath the blankets. Antonio sighed heavily. Why was his cute tomate being so difficult? He just wanted to help.

He put a hand on Lovino's head. "Why won't you eat something for me? Then we can talk about what you remembered and me and Feli can stop worrying about you," he suggested.

Even though he thought it was a very sensible suggestion, Lovino curled into a ball. "I don't want to," he croaked, voice hoarse from disuse.

At least Antonio had gotten a response. He sighed, laying his head on the pillow while he watched the lump underneath the blanket. "Not even nice, hot tomato soup?" he wheedled.

There was a beat as Lovino struggled between sulking and wanting to eat. Antonio knew the Italian must really want to eat after weeks of starving himself. "No," Lovino said finally.

He was disappointed at the rejection, but he had the feeling that he'd be able to win after a little more coaxing. The front door opened as Feliciano returned home with the tomatoes, and Antonio grinned despite himself. He pushed himself off the bed and went to leave. The tiny ball relaxed itself a bit when Antonio vacated his spot.

Before he left, he said, "You know, Lovi, you can't sulk in here forever."

"Watch me," Lovino replied.

Antonio grinned at the retort. It was obvious now that Lovino was no longer as upset as he had been when he first got here. He vaguely wondered if he himself had anything to do with it.

"I'll be back, love," he said without thinking, and closed the door.

Just as the door clicked shut, he heard Lovino squeak out, "L—love?"

Feliciano hurried up to him, a large plastic bag freely swinging on his arm. "Ve, I've got the tomatoes, big brother Spain!" he exclaimed, panting heavily.

Spain wondered if the Italian ran to the market just to get the tomatoes. He took the bag with a smile. "Gracias, Feli! I'll make Lovi eat lots of tomato soup, and I won't let him starve himself anymore!" he vowed, looking at the closed door to Lovino's room.

The younger Italy looked relieved. "Ve, grazie~! Thank you so much~!" he said, still trying to catch his breath.

He nodded, then shoed the Italian away. "Now you go to bed. Don't worry about you fratello anymore, I'll make everything better," he said.

There was not a hint of doubt in Spain's abilities on Feliciano's face as he nodded earnestly. "Grazie, grazie, big brother Spain! I'm so glad you're back~," he said as the exhaustion returned to his features. He went to his own bedroom while Spain went to the kitchen with the tomatoes.

A little while later, Antonio was carrying a tray to Lovino's room. There was a large bowl of hot tomato soup, a large glass of fresh tomato juice, and a large tomato on the side. Overall, the meal was very… Large. To most, all the tomato products would have been pushing it, but Antonio knew that his tomatito could eat tomatoes all day without getting the least bit sick of it, and still ask for more. Since he felt he would probably need to coax Lovino into eating (if only because of the twisted sense of pride the Italian had), he decided to go all out with Lovino's favorite food.

With a bit of juggling and creative use of knees, Antonio managed to open the door to Lovino's room again while still holding the fairly heavy tray. "Here's some food, Lovi~!" he sang as he pushed his way into the room.

There was no response, and he sighed, setting the tray on the bedside table and sitting down. "Not talking again? Not going to work, mi querido~!" he said.

When Lovino still refused to come out from under the blankets, Antonio grabbed them and whipped them off the bed.

The Italian sat up indignantly. Antonio was shocked to see how Lovino's clothes hung off his unbelievably thin frame. It hurt him to see his love in this state.

"What'd you do that for, damn it? I don't want to eat!" Lovino exclaimed. His voice was stronger now, if a little raspy.

Antonio didn't pay any mind to Lovino's cries. He picked the bowl off of the tray and dipped the spoon inside. "Time to eat, Lovi~!" he announced, holding the spoon up to Lovino's lips.

The Italian blushed and leaned away. "No! Stop it! I'm not a kid!" he said, turning his head so that Antonio couldn't force-feed him.

The Spaniard wasn't about to let Lovino brush him off. "You better say 'ahh' or I'm going to tickle you and then feed you," Antonio threatened.

Lovino went red. He fell silent as he tried to decide whether it was worth taking Antonio up on his threat. Finally, he opened his mouth obediently, still glaring at Antonio.

He laughed as he spoon-fed Lovino. "That's a good little tomate~!" he said.

"Sh—shut up, dumbass. I'm not a fucking tomato," Lovino retorted, making Antonio laugh again.

As Antonio made sure Lovino ate every bite, it was easy to forget that the Italian was still missing the majority of his memories. He laughed a lot, while Lovino blushed and cussed like he always did. At one point, he even managed to get an indignant "Toni!" from the red-faced Italian.

Once the all the food was gone, and Lovino was sipping at the remainder of his tomato juice, Antonio started to feel awkward. He knew he had to bring up the memory that Lovino regained, but he was afraid to cause his little love more pain than he'd already felt the past couple weeks. Setting the tray to the side, Antonio took a deep, preparatory breath.

"Hey, Lovi," he began quietly.

Lovino raised an eyebrow at Antonio's unusually subdued attitude. "What is it?"

"Wh—what is it that you remembered while I was gone?" Antonio asked nervously.

Immediately, Lovino's expression darkened. He set the glass to the side, folding his hands and putting them in his lap. "Didn't my fratello tell you?" he asked.

Antonio shook his head. "No, only that it was very bad," he replied.

Lovino was silent for a while. Finally, he asked, "Do you know how people called Italy the 'soft underbelly of Europe'?"

No, Antonio actually _didn't _know that people called Italy that. He knew they called Italy useless, or only good for a buffer zone, or for it's lands and such, but he never knew they called Italy what Lovino was referring to it as. Nor did he know where Lovino could have possibly heard it. Chalking it up as just some random memory floating around Lovino's mind, he shook his head. "No, I don't," he said, confused as to what that had to do with the memory.

His reply seemed to frustrate Lovino. "Well, they do call it that, ok?" he said huffily.

Antonio nodded. "Got it. People call Italy the 'soft underbelly of Europe'. But what does that have to do with anything?" the Spaniard asked.

Lovino sighed. He looked away from Antonio. "Well, if you're in a war, then you'd go for the weakest point, right? It's just strategy, right?" He looked up at Antonio, as if trying to tell him what the memory actually was telepathically.

The Spaniard felt as if Lovino was trying to change the subject. "Yes, I suppose you would do that. But I don't really understand what you're trying to say, Lovi," he admitted.

Lovino groaned, falling back onto the bed. He looked like he wanted to hide, but there were no blankets to do so, and he doubted that he could walk much in his malnutrition. "Why are you such a dumbass?" he muttered.

Antonio felt really confused. "Lovi, just tell me what you remembered. Por favor," he added.

"I remembered the stupid Allies attacking South Italy, all right?" Lovino all but snarled at Antonio, slamming his fists down on the bed in frustration.

There wasn't even a second of silence before Antonio pulled Lovino into a hug, ignoring the Italian's squeak of surprise. He didn't even think about doing it. He also remembered when the Allies attacked South Italy, and it was the most horrific time in his life, when he thought he would lose his cute little Lovi forever. So he wasted no time in holding Lovino.

"I'm sorry, Lovi. I couldn't do anything then," he murmured into Lovino's hair.

The younger nation relaxed into the embrace. "Y—you were there. I remember. You were holding me like this," Lovino said, just as quietly.

Antonio nodded, rubbing reassuring circles into Lovino's back. "I was very scared I'd lose you," he confessed.

Lovino was silent for a while. "I—I think I'm not as upset about it as much," he said. Now that Antonio was here, holding him so comfortingly, he felt like he was stupid for starving himself just because of a memory. It happened so long ago, too!

"I'm glad," Antonio replied, content to hold Lovino like this without the Italian trying to push him away.

He couldn't see said Italian's blush as Lovino remembered how Antonio called him 'love'. Even though he couldn't remember his relationship with Antonio now, he decided that if he didn't confront his current feelings on the matter, he'd snap.

"Er, Toni?" Lovino began, hesitant.

Antonio's arms tightened a bit around his skinny frame. Lovino could feel the Spaniard's heart pound frantically in his chest, in time with his own. "Yes, Lovi?" Antonio sounded breathless.

Lovino pushed away just enough so he could look up at the Spaniard. "I—I think I l—l—l… I think I love you!" he said hastily, his cheeks burning.

Antonio's breath caught. "You… You do?" Even though Feliciano insisted that Lovino loved him, he just couldn't believe it until he heard it from Lovino's own mouth.

The flustered Italian nodded. "I love you," he said again, with a bit more certainty in his shaky voice.

Antonio hugged Lovino tightly. "I love you, too, Lovi. Oh, dios mio, I love you so much," he said.

"You do?" Lovino asked, a hint of disbelief remaining.

"Yes! I really wanted to hold you again. Ever since the accident. It was so hard not to," he said.

Lovino flicked his forehead. "Dumbass! Why didn't you?" he demanded. "It would have saved me a lot of trouble trying to figure this all out, damn it."

Antonio laughed nervously. "I… I was scared I guess," he admitted.

Lovino paused, almost afraid to do what he wanted to do next. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing their lips together. "Don't be scared. Not even amnesia is going to take me away from you. Ti amo," he said.

Antonio took a moment to recover from his shell-shock. "Te amo, Lovi," he said, and returned the kiss. And to Lovino, suddenly getting his memories back didn't seem so important anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>So, sorry if this ending kind of sucked, but I honestly have no idea where to go after this.<strong>

** Thank you all for supporting my story, and following it through to the end, and not ditching it after the long lapses in updates I've given.**

** And to those who've just recently picked this up, thank you for following it through to the end, and I hope I didn't disappoint you too badly.**

** And most of all, thank you to ALL my reviewers. It makes me so happy every time I get an email that says, "Review Alert!"**

** Now, off to write my other stories! Hope you enjoyed this one.**

** Arrivaderci~! Goodbye and I hope to see you again sometime soon!**


	10. Epilogue that is more than an epilogue

**Ok, since so many people (and by 'so many people', I mean 2 officially, with 2 others looking forward to it) wanted it, and since I found sudden inspiration to write a little on Feli and Lovi after the fact (brotherly love, so cute~!), here is a little epilogue. Also, no lemon still (sorry if you wanted one). To date, I've still never written a yaoi lemon. Maybe in the future, I'll post up a little one-shot separately as a sort of epilogue to the epilogue, but I'm not currently planning on it. After this, I'm focusing on 'Because You're an Idiot, Ti Amo'. Mostly because it has been done for months (*shot*).**

**While I'm here, blabbering on in an Author's Note… Is it strange that my dream job is to research language, and my secondary dream job is to teach English in a foreign country? No? My dad wants me to go into business, and my mom wants me to be some interpreter for a big corporation or whatever and learn Japanese. I want to learn Russian. T^T But whatever, I know at least my dad outright supports me no matter what, and I'm sure my mom does, even when she's dragging me in the opposite direction.**

**And as a last note… Thank you to ALL my reviewers! I'm not going to make a list or anything, because I know I'll miss at least one, and then I'll feel guilty forever, no matter how many times you tell me it doesn't matter to you. So I'm just going to make a general note! Also, thanks to everyone who alerted, favorited, or read this through to the very end! I really appreciate each and every one of you. All 69 of you. Your reviews make me feel special, and help me to continue writing!**

**So, on a note of gratitude, I present to you the epilogue of 'Love is Never Forgotten'!**

* * *

><p>"Ve, fratello! Fratello, wake up! Wake up, ve! Hurry, hurry!"<p>

Lovino had been having a very nice dream when Feliciano took him by the shoulders and roughly shook him from his deep sleep. It was the kind of dream that one desperately wants to remember when they wake up, but they can't, leaving an empty feeling with the strange sensation that they missed out on something wonderful. Of course that left Lovino in a bad mood that was even worse than his usual morning attitude.

"What the fuck, Feliciano? Just because I said I'd sleep with you doesn't mean you can wake me up so early, dammit," he growled at his younger brother.

Feliciano pouted, eyes filled with hurt. "B—but fratello…. I wanted to spend our last day together having fun, and it's already noon, ve…."

Lovino immediately felt guilty. "I—it's not like you'll never see me again, dammit," he muttered, looking away.

It had been a week since Spain returned, and a few days since Lovino managed to forget the past, telling himself that it wasn't fair to Feliciano to ignore him for something that happened decades ago. On top of that, even though Lovino hadn't regained all his memories yet (he was still hopeful, since he'd come so far already), he decided to move to Spain with Antonio. The Spaniard had been hesitant; sure that Lovino would change his mind once he remembered everything. Even though Lovino had gotten over his pride to confess his undying love for Antonio, and practically threw his heart, body, and soul at the Spaniard with the hopes that the other would catch them, Antonio still seemed to think that it was somehow superficial, and that it was taking advantage of Lovino in some way.

Lovino wasn't sure of the details, exactly, but that didn't matter. He had been adamant. Under Lovino's stubborn persistence, Antonio's reluctance quickly crumbled, and he agreed to let the Italian move in with him. Only on the condition that Lovino wait a few days before moving, just in case he changed his mind. After all, Antonio informed him, they had never officially lived together even before the accident, so this was a pretty huge jump.

To Lovino, this sounded like another nervous attempt to keep him at arm's length. He seriously didn't understand why Antonio was so determined not to let Lovino get any closer until he got all his memories back. It wasn't like it changed how Lovino felt about Antonio, and he even pointed this out.

"Come on, dammit! It's not like having memories changes the fact that I… That I l—love… That I fucking love you!" he had said when Antonio asked that he wait a few days before moving (it was also when he realized that saying 'I love you' more didn't make it any easier to say).

Antonio smiled warily. Caution was not a good look on him. It made him seem… Tired… Lovino hated that.

"Por favor, Lovi: Just… Humor me, ok?" Antonio pleaded gently, cupping Lovino's cheek with a tender smile.

Lovino felt himself heat up. Flushing fiercely, he looked away. "F—fine! But only a few days!" he conceded.

Antonio kissed the top of his head. "Gracias, Lovi~!"

He puffed his cheeks out. "Whatever, dammit. Just don't think about making a few days into a month, got it?"

So that was how Lovino got stuck living in his apartment with Feliciano for a few more days. The younger Italian had decided not to move back in with Germany until Lovino was safely moved into Spain's house.

Of course, this meant that Feliciano also saw the need to constantly be by his brother's side until that moment came. He even tried to sneak into Lovino's bed, although the older Italian kicked him out every time. It was only on the eve of the move that Lovino caved and spent the night in Feliciano's bed. Only to be woken up in the middle of a wonderful dream.

But… Feliciano had a point. It _was _their final day together and it _was _already half over.

Lovino gnawed on his bottom lip. "Well… We can do whatever you want today, alright? So… Stop looking so hurt and wimpy and shit!" he said, still not looking at his brother.

Feliciano's entire being lit up, as if he'd planned the entire guilt trip Lovino went on (the crafty bastard). "Yay! Grazie, fratello!" he cheered, tackling Lovino with an enthusiastic hug.

Lovino was not expecting this. "Woah, hey!" he shouted as the two tumbled off the bed with a loud thump. Lovino's head hit the floor hard as Feliciano landed on top of him, knocking his breath out of his lungs.

He rubbed his head gingerly. "Ow, fuck," he gasped, pushing Feliciano off. "Are you _trying _to make me lose my memories _again_?"

Feliciano laughed nervously. "Ve, sorry, fratello."

Lovino glared at him suspiciously, unsure about the sincerity of Feliciano's apology. However, before he could ponder on his brother's motive, the aforementioned younger brother suddenly grabbing his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Ve, come on, fratello~! Let's go make pasta for lunch!"

Of course it was pasta, Lovino thought with a roll of his eyes, although he wasn't complaining. Feliciano was a wonderful cook, and pasta was amazing anyway. Then again, he thought that he probably _could _complain about the way his brother was dragging him down the hall, practically ripping his arm out of its socket.

"Dammit, Feliciano! Let go of my fucking arm before you have to take me to the hospital to sew it back on!" Lovino snarled.

Feliciano looked back, only noticing then that he was holding on to his brother's hand. He laughed, releasing his vice-like grip. "Sorry~! I'm just really excited to make pasta!" he apologized.

This got him another eye-roll from Lovino. "You're _always _excited to make pasta, idiot," he said, without malice.

"But this time I'm making pasta with you! It makes me so happy, ve~!"

Lovino blushed in embarrassment and looked away. "What the hell? It's not like I'm some great cook or something, dammit. I suck," he said, feeling sad for some reason that he couldn't quite pin down.

Just as he sunk into that strange bout of depression, Lovino felt Feliciano's arms encircle him. He stiffened at first, partly from surprise, and partly from the whole touching thing that hugging tended to involve.

"That's a lie, fratello. You're wonderful at cooking, too. Just ask big brother Spain. And you're really good at other things, too. Like gardening and stuff! I'm really jealous, ve!" Feliciano said comfortingly.

Lovino gradually relaxed into the reassuring embrace. It wasn't the same as Antonio's, but it was still nice. "You're such a fucking girl, Feli," he murmured, without meaning a word of it.

Feliciano laughed, pulling away. "Let's go make some pasta now~!" he said, quickening his pace as if the short exchange cost them precious time (which was ridiculous, since it only took a few seconds, and they had half a day left before them). Nevertheless, Lovino followed him, albeit with a few grumbled complaints.

A while later found Feliciano sitting on the counter, laughing and watching his brother stir furiously at the sauce while the pasta noodles boiled in a separate pot. The laughter made Lovino stir with that much more vigor, embarrassed.

"No, fratello, you can't stir that hard, or it'll—VE! OUCH!" Feliciano was cut off as Lovino accidentally flung some sauce out of the pot, splattering both him and Feliciano with the hot substance.

"Ouchouchouch! Fuck!" Lovino exclaimed, jumping back and quickly wiping the sauce away. Feliciano fell off the counter, nursing his burns.

Lovino glared at the younger Italian. "This is all your fault!" he accused.

Feliciano jumped. "Ve? What did I do?"

"You were laughing like an annoying idiot and distracted me, dammit!" Lovino said, crossing his arms obstinately.

There was really nothing to be said to that, so Feliciano just gaped at his brother, until they heard the sauce begin to boil and bubble, splattering more sauce on the pretty, white-tiled countertop.

"Shit! Feliciano!" Lovino shouted, hurrying to the stove to remove the pot from the heat.

After that, Feliciano couldn't help himself. He began to laugh, louder than before. When Lovino shot him a defensive glare, he threw himself at his brother with a big hug.

"Oh, fratello, I love making pasta with you~!" Feliciano said, and, despite himself, Lovino's lips twisted into a crooked smile.

"Yeah, I like making pasta with you, too. I guess," Lovino added with an embarrassed blush, looking away. Feliciano giggled.

Somehow, they managed to salvage the sauce, and after draining the noodles of excess water, they took the food to the table to eat.

Feliciano helped himself to the food first. "Grazie for the food, fratello~!" he said gratefully, and then took a large bite.

Lovino poked his fork at his own plate of pasta for a while, watching Feliciano anxiously. "Is… Is it any good?" he asked nervously.

With as bright a smile as he could muster with his cheeks stuffed to the bursting point with pasta, Feliciano nodded emphatically. He swallowed hard, then beat at his chest when he swallowed too much too fast.

"Y—yes! It's very good!" Feliciano said breathlessly once he'd regained control of himself.

The older Italian, who had been watching Feliciano this whole time, put a hand over his mouth as he laughed. "You're such a dork, Feli," Lovino gasped out, trying to stop laughing.

Feliciano pouted. "Ve, you're so mean, Lovi~" he said, but couldn't help but smile after a couple seconds. He was just so thrilled that Lovino was having so much fun.

Lovino didn't response, still chuckling. Instead, he tried some of the pasta himself. His eyes widened a bit in surprise. "Oh, it's actually pretty good," he said.

"Ve, I told you~!" Feliciano said.

Smirking, Lovino flicked a bit of sauce at him—thankfully, not as hot as earlier, and landing just short of its mark. "Stupid, it isn't so good that you had to go choking on it," he said.

Feliciano laughed, choosing to forgo a response, and the rest of the meal was spent in relative silence. After, they got some ice cream out of the freezer—Feliciano wanted some gelato, but they didn't have any then—and went into the living room to watch TV. That was how they spent the rest of the day, eating ice cream and laughing about the random stupid shows they watched and horrible actors on those random stupid shows. Of course, they could have switched the channel to one with _good_ programs, but the Italian brothers enjoyed confiding in one another and pointing out the stupid mistakes and making fun of the giant plot holes.

It was a good day.

* * *

><p>Lovino woke up the next morning, sprawled out on the couch. He blinked a few times, shaking his head, disconcerted by his surroundings. He couldn't remember ever falling asleep last night. There was watching TV with Feliciano, laughing about a show with horrible, teenaged, British actors (the fact that the actors were British just made it that much funnier), then he woke up.<p>

He sat up. There was a light pull on his shirt sleeve, resisting his movement. Looking down, he saw Feliciano half-curled into a ball on the ground, where he had fallen after Lovino probably kicked him off the couch, holding onto Lovino's sleeve in his sleep.

Lovino smiled as he freed his hand from Feliciano's (surprisingly strong) sleeping grip. Sitting up properly with that obstacle removed, he nudged his younger brother with his foot.

"Hey, Feliciano, time to wake up," Lovino said, stretching and yawning.

Feliciano gradually woke up. "Ve, what time is it?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes without trying to get up.

"Hell if I know. Get up and check yourself, I'm going to go change," Lovino replied, standing up.

Proving that he was still half-asleep, Feliciano groggily asked, "Ve, why're you doing that?"

Lovino snorted in amusement. "Because Antonio is going to be here any minute now to help me pack, and I'm still wearing my clothes from yesterday, dumbass," he told him.

That woke Feliciano up. He jumped to his feet, eyes uncharacteristically wide. "Oh right! I'll go make breakfast~!" he said, skipping over to the kitchen before Lovino could say anything about it.

After a couple moments of staring at the kitchen doorway, Lovino shrugged. It was probably better to let Feliciano do what he wanted, since their time of living together was now numbered. In any case, he needed to go wash.

With that, he trudged into the bathroom. Examining himself in the mirror, he discovered a dried mess of chocolate ice cream in his hair (his head probably fell into the bowl of ice cream sometime during the night) and several similar stains on his shirt. He couldn't help but laugh at his reflection. It was a good thing he decided to wash…

A half hour later, he had showered, dressed, and made sure he generally looked presentable when he went into the kitchen. Feliciano set an omelet in front of him, and they ate in relative silence.

Some time later, the doorbell rang, and Lovino went to answer it. Antonio stood on the other side, smiling.

"Hola, Lovi. You still want to move in with me?" he asked. His smile masked an anxiety that, if Lovino didn't know better, could indicate that he _didn't _actually want Lovino moving in with him.

Fortunately, Lovino _did _know him better, by now able to read the Spaniard almost instinctively, and knew the source of Antonio's unnerved grin to be just the opposite.

Lovino smiled back, almost sarcastically. "Did you think that I'd change my mind just like that? Of course I do, dumbass," he said.

Antonio's shoulders slumped in relief and he pulled Lovino into a hug. "It was possible, wasn't it?"

"You're just paranoid, idiot," Lovino returned, settling comfortably into the embrace.

"Big brother Spain~! Ciao~!" Feliciano's excited greeting ruined the peaceful ambiance, and the couple reluctantly separated.

"Hola, Feli. How have you been?" Antonio asked, smiling friendly at the younger Italian.

Feliciano had a broad grin that threatened to split his joyful face in two. "Very good. Me and fratello had lots of fun yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that!" he said. Both the cheerful nations ignored Lovino's grumble of, "It's 'Fratello and _I_'".

Antonio patted Feliciano's head. "I'm glad. I hope you won't be lonely when I take your brother away from you," he said.

With a laugh, Feliciano shook his head. "Of course not! Luddy said that I can just move back in with him again, and so stop crying over the phone because the static sounds and high-pitched wails are giving him a headache!" he said brightly, to which Lovino rolled his eyes.

"That's great~!"

"Hey!" Lovino called to them, getting their attention. "We've got work to do if I'm getting out of this place by today!"

Antonio turned to Lovino with an even bigger smile than Lovino thought possible. "Sí, Lovi, Let's get started," he said, rubbing his hands together.

The Spaniard's beaming face made Lovino's cheeks grow hot, and he hastily looked away, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That's right," he said lamely, turning around to lead the way into his room. He could hardly wait to begin a new life with Antonio, and make all sorts of new memories to replace the ones he still missed.

* * *

><p><strong> Well, so much for an epilogue. I suppose that's more of a full-on chapter isn't it?<strong>

** Still no memories either. I thought about it, but in the end I just left it at that. Doesn't that make the rediscovered love all that much sweeter?**

** Anyway, I've got lots of other stories to update now, so have a nice day everyone~! Arrivederci, for real this time~!**


End file.
